


Raining at sunset

by livinginthequestion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/Cas Pinefest 2018, Design Engineer!Dean, Head injury/recovery, Non-Explicit Sex, TBI, cellist!Cas, enemies-to-lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-16 03:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 94,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14156118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livinginthequestion/pseuds/livinginthequestion
Summary: Saturday at the Public Market always means street musicians. Strolling through the market listening has always been one of Dean’s favorite post-lunch pastimes, and when he hears the siren call of a cello ripping out hard-rock licks he can’t resist following the sound. It’s amazing, and the fact that the cellist is the hottest-looking guy he’s seen in a long time is a bonus. So naturally, Dean’s first move is to plant his foot firmly in his mouth.Somehow, after that rocky start, Dean and Cas find themselves becoming friends, then more than friends. Every time they come to a challenge along the way, they lean on the trust that’s grown between them - until a tragedy upends the life they’ve built and leaves everything in shambles. How can they ever find their way back?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my pinefest! 
> 
> I've lived in Seattle off and on most of my life, and I've always thought it's the perfect setting for stories. This one's been rattling around in my head for most of a year. I've been to most of the places featured in this story; Dean and Cas' house is the one I grew up in. I've heard cello music drifting up through the stairwell at the Market, and there's nothing more beautiful. 
> 
> I was thrilled and delighted to have this particular artist pick my story. She was a joy to work with and I'm so grateful. Please go visit her [maigloeckchen](https://convallariini.tumblr.com/post/172534314467/illustrations-for-raining-at-sunset-by-the#notes) and leave her lots of love. 
> 
> I owe my dear [WinJennster](http://winjennster.tumblr.com/) for the seed of an idea that grew into this story. Thanks, darlin. You inspire and encourage me more than I can say. 
> 
> Thanks also to the Pinefest mods for holding my newbie hand through this. 
> 
> I listened to a whole bunch of music for this one! Here's my Dropbox playlist if you want to hear it.  
>  [playlist](https://www.dropbox.com/home/Raining%20at%20sunset%20playlist)
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not a design engineer, or a medical person, nor am I familiar with the process of recovering from Traumatic Brain Injury. Research helps, but I'm no expert. My apologies for any errors or omissions.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this. Please leave me comments if you do! :)

Now

_"I promise you, these storms are only trying to wash you clean." ~ Jessica Katoff_

 

Wading through molasses. Moving in slow-motion. No matter how hard you try, you can’t run. Dean knows this feeling from nightmares: heart pounding, breath harsh in his throat, struggling to move his feet, to run, screaming in terror.

“Cas!! Cas, look out! CAS!!” He’s moving as fast as he can, pushing people out of his way, his eyes jumping wildly from Cas, standing at the top of the stairway with a puzzled look on his face, to the man racing toward Cas, arms raised to strike.

“CAS, BEHIND YOU!” He can’t run fast enough, he’s not going to make it, watches helplessly as the two of them collide, and Cas topples over sideways, disappearing into the stairwell. Dean can hear the terrible sounds of man and cello crashing down the concrete steps. “CAS!!!”

If this were a dream, this is where he’d wake up. Any minute now, he’ll jerk awake, panting and gulping, he’ll be home in their bed, Cas warm beside him, whispering, _it’s just a bad dream_. Any second now. His feet carry him to the top of the stairs; he hears the sounds of a scuffle behind him, someone yelling, _call 911!_ Dean only has eyes for the still figure at the bottom of the steps, one leg twisted awkwardly, the cello in its soft case bent nearly in half; the pool of blood under his head.

Any second now. He starts down the steps, stumbling in shock. _I know I’m dreaming, I want to wake up. Please, let me wake up._ He drops to his knees beside Cas’ motionless body, trying not to look at the blood. He’s shaking uncontrollably, so hard he fumbles as he takes Cas’ limp hand. Dean still doesn’t wake up.


	2. Year One

_All your life_

_you were only waiting_

_for this moment to arise_

 

 

 

Spring in Seattle means a gradual, subtle greening - leaf buds on the tips of tree branches, a haze of green on brown lawns, the occasional birdsong - until suddenly it bursts out in a riot of color and new life. Non-natives moving into town are always warned: it’s so green and beautiful here because it rains. Frequently, especially in spring. 

This day was no exception. Dr. Castiel Novak stood at the sliding glass doors in his living room, sipping tea and looking out across the rooftops toward the city. Curtains of misty rain occasionally obscured the view, the sound of drops striking the roof and windows increasing momentarily, then softening and fading as the buildings came back into view. He pulled the door open and stepped onto the balcony, sniffing deeply and smiling at the fresh, clean aroma. It wasn’t especially cold, just damp; he expected it would be a perfect day at the Market. He gulped down the rest of his tea and hurried back inside to get ready. 

Cas spent more time packing up his cello than on his own preparations; he pulled on a sweater and a pair of soft old corduroy pants, then turned to his instrument. Because of the damp, he decided to use the hard-shell case, slipping a dehumidifier pack into the neck compartment. He turned to the spidery electronic cello, sitting on its stand in the corner, and lifted it carefully into the case. He pulled on a jacket and hat, hoisted the cello case and a small amplifier, and headed out to his car. 

The Pike Place Public Market was home to farm-fresh vegetables, fresh seafood, myriad handicraft vendors, a handful of quirky little restaurants - and dozens of street musicians. Seattle’s winter weather means few customers, and busking opportunities were too slim to make it worth braving the weather. But beginning in early spring, people came back to the Market in growing numbers, and the musicians started coming out of their winter caves to perform again. Today marked Cas’ first Market outing of the season. 

His reasons for playing at the Market were a little different than most. He did make a little money, most of which went back into music for his students. For him, playing in public was usually a symphony orchestra performing classical music - beautiful, but predictable and safe. Playing at the Market gave him a chance to spread his wings, put himself out there musically in a way he rarely did. He’d looked forward to this all winter, and by the time he turned into the parking garage below the Market he was smiling eagerly. 

 

Working on Saturday meant that the entire building was pretty much empty - nobody popping in his office with questions they could easily answer themselves; nobody interrupting his sketching process; nobody eating his lunch from the communal refrigerator. Also, with nobody around, the place echoed, creaked, sounded like it was haunted for sure. And there was nobody to talk to, bounce ideas off. 

Dean sighed and rubbed his face, elbows resting on the drafting table in front of him. He scowled down at the half-finished drawing. At this point it was mostly eraser crumbs and abandoned ideas, discouraging given that he was looking at a short deadline. Dean ran his fingers up into his hair and tugged, and then jumped a foot at the sharp knock on his door. 

“Ooops, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” The door opened enough to admit Jo’s laughing face. 

“Like hell you are. And I wasn’t asleep, I was contemplating suicide.” 

Jo slid into the room, her expression shifting into sympathy. “Uh oh, not going well, eh?” 

Dean sighed and pushed back from the table. “Just stuck. The problem is this project sucks. The guy wants something that won’t work for what he intends to use it for, and I can’t convince him otherwise.” 

“Have you sicced Bobby on him? That sometimes works.” 

“Hmmm. That’s not a bad idea. Hmmm….” Dean stared off into space, eyes unfocused. Jo waited a minute, then bumped her hip into the table, and his gaze jerked back to her. “What?” 

She smirked at him. “You’re ignoring me. Plus you oughta call Bobby now, before he gets into game prep for this afternoon.” 

Dean nodded thoughtfully. “Y’know, I think I’ll do that, and I’ve got an idea for something that actually will work. I could go ahead…” His voice trailed off and he frowned into the distance again, thinking furiously. Jo rolled her eyes and picked up his desk phone. 

“I’ll get Bobby for ya, hang on.” 

“Um, yeah, okay.” Dean leaned forward again, pencil moving, until Jo tapped his shoulder with the phone. 

“H’lo?” 

_“You called me, idjit. What’s up? And be quick about it, I still have to clean the grill before the guys get here.”_ Bobby’s deep growl sounded even grumpier than usual. 

Dean grinned. “Ever think you’re pushing the season, old man? It’s not exactly grilling weather.” 

_“Grill’s under cover, I’m not completely stupid. What in hell do you want on a Saturday? Are you at the office?”_

“Yeah, I’m wrestling with this stupid Smith project, and Bobby, it’s just not gonna happen the way he wants it. I can design something that’ll get the job he wants done, in fact I’ve got something half-drawn already, but it’s not gonna look the way he wanted it to.” 

_“Want me to call him?”_

Dean let out a long sigh. “You read my mind. Could you do that?” 

Bobby chuckled. _“Course. I had a feeling it’d come to this. I’ll call him soon’s we hang up. You go ahead with what you got and we’ll present it to him Tuesday. You be ready by then?”_

“Yeah, absolutely, no problem. Thanks, Bobby. Tell Rufus I said hey.” 

_“Yeah, yeah, get to work, slacker. And don’t skip lunch this time!”_

“Yessir.” Dean hung up, smiling in relief. 

“Everything worked out then?” Jo was wearing an insufferably smug expression, and he grinned up at her. 

“Yep. Great idea, glad I thought of it.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, I’m going down to the Market for lunch, wanna come with and grab something?” 

“Sure, I need a break to air out my brain anyway. Lemme grab my jacket.” 

 

 

When Dean Winchester arrived in Seattle, just out of high school and reeling from the twin blows of his dad’s death and his brother’s choice to stay in Kansas to finish high school, he showed up on Bobby’s doorstep exhausted from the drive and masking his grief with surly resentment and plain rudeness. Bobby, tipped off by Sam’s foster mom, scowled fiercely at the skinny, grubby boy pretending to be a hardass, and gathered him into a bear hug. That was all it took: Dean spent about one second trying not to cry, then gave it up as a lost cause and wept like a child, clinging to Bobby’s shirt and feeling like a fool. When it was over he found himself sitting at the kitchen table wiping his face and shoveling scrambled eggs and bacon into his mouth as fast as he could. Ellen declared that the spare room was his for as long as he needed it _and don’t even bother arguing with me, boy_. Another brief bout of tears followed that announcement, but by the time he crawled into the fresh sheets and pulled the quilt up to his ears he was smiling. 

Now, a dozen or so years later, Dean occupied his own office at Singer Designs, with a couple of young designers working for him and a wallful of awards, articles from Seattle Magazine and Design Northwest, photos of him with his team, all centered around his diploma from the University of Washington School of Engineering. Sometimes Dean couldn’t look at the diploma without thinking of his dad, wishing he could it throw in John’s face, _and you said I’d never amount to anything!_ Or his mom, knowing how proud she would have been. And then he reminded himself of Sam’s face, beaming up at him when he crossed the stage at graduation, or Bobby’s gruff _I’m proud of you, son_ , and Ellen’s tearful hug. He was pretty proud of himself, truth be told; he’d come a long way from that lonely, scared kid who could only hope to find work as a mechanic and live in Bobby’s spare room for the rest of his life. 

Singer Designs occupied the top two floors of a beautiful old brick building that had seen new life in recent years. When the Market area property owners started renovating and redesigning their buildings, Bobby snagged a major contract for architectural and facility design work. It put his little firm on the map, with the side benefit of office space in one of the most sought-after buildings in the neighborhood. Dean’s first and best graduation gift was a job offer, which he eagerly took. He spent a few years on the floor with all the other newbies; when his designs started getting attention outside the company, he moved into this office. His favorite thing about it, besides all the room, remained the big windows, affording him views of the neighborhood and the bay stretching out west of the city toward the peninsula. 

Dean’s second favorite thing about the firm’s location was the proximity of quirky little restaurants, plus all the amazing food in the Market itself, a few blocks away. He and Jo turned into Post Alley and cross onto Pike Place, Dean sniffing the air like a starving wolf. Music from street musicians along the way drifted up from all directions. Jo tugged on his sleeve. 

“C’mon, I wanna get a seat at ZigZag before it gets too crowded.” 

“Didn’t we go there last time?” 

Jo made a face at him. “We’ve been there a hundred times, dummy. I want a plate of Greek lasagna as big as my head.” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay, they’re the best. ZigZag it is. Hey, can we stop by Charlie’s table and see if she wants to come? She loves that place.” Jo nodded, smiling, and Dean shouldered his way through a knot of wandering tourists at the entrance to the vendors’ booths. They worked their way through the outdoor tables and into the vendors’ room; Charlie was about halfway down the aisle, presiding over her table full of complicated wooden toys and knickknacks. Dean whistled and waved as they approached, and her face lit up at the sight of them. 

“Heyyyyy! What is up, my dudes? Hi, Jo, long time!” Charlie was all but dancing on her toes, and Jo and Dean both grinned back at her. 

“Hey, short person, how are ya?” Dean leaned across the table and hugged her, followed by Jo doing the same thing. Charlie and Jo met at college, had been roommates for awhile, and stayed close after graduation. Jo introduced Charlie and Dean one Thanksgiving when Charlie came home with her for dinner, and she’d been one of his closest friends ever since; a friendship that was cemented permanently when he discovered she was adamant that Han shot first. 

“So, what are the chances you can shake loose and come get some lunch with us? We’re headed for ZigZag.” Dean watched her face light up and chuckled. 

“Oooh, yes! Hang on.” Charlie turned to Garth, at the table next to hers, and looked at him pleadingly. “Just for a little while?” 

Garth scowled at her, and then laughed. “Of course, take your time. Just bring me a Garth bag.” 

Charlie laughed and hugged him. “Thanks, pal, will do. All right, boys and girls, let’s blow this popsicle stand!” She sidled out from behind the table and looped her arms into Dean and Jo’s. “Cmon, c’mon, tick-tock!” The three of the trooped off down the aisle, through the vegetable market and headed down the ancient stairway. 

 

The little restaurant was fairly busy, as usual, but they managed to find a tiny table near the window, and passed the next hour or so eating piles of lasagna and chattering away. They ambled back toward the main thoroughfare, and stopped to watch the fish market guys tossing whole salmon back and forth for the tourists. Dean shook his head. 

“Y’know, that’s amusing and all, but I’d never buy one of those fish.” 

Jo nodded. “I know, that just bruises them. Fun to watch, though, and good marketing.” 

“Hey! Y’all know I can hear ya, right?” Benny, the fish vendor and Dean’s close friend, mock-glared at them from behind the counter, eyes twinkling. 

“You know she’s right!” Dean called out, grinning. 

“Jus’ givin’ the people what they want, brother. Where you kids headed?” 

“Back to work, I guess. Just had lunch at ZigZag. The lasagna was calling Jo’s name.” 

Benny laughed. “I know that siren song well, little sister. Might haveta walk around the block a few times to work that meal off.” He nodded and touched the brim of his cap and turned back to shout at his employees to get back to work. Another fish flew through the air as the crowd cheered. 

“Tourists.” Dean shook his head again, and Jo elbowed him as they turned toward the walkway back through the Market. 

“Don’t knock it, you snob. They bring a lot of money to town with them. Plus, you’re not even from here. You were once a flatlander like them.” 

Dean laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. But I _feel_ like I belong here. This is home now.” 

Jo gave him a long look, head tilted to one side. “Even though Sam lives in San Fran? You don’t want to follow him?” 

“Nah, not really. I mean, I miss him, but we haven’t lived in the same town for a long time. He’s happy, he’s having fun doing family law just like he always wanted, and he and Jess just got married and all. All I ever wanted for him is to have a great life, and he’s doing that. He doesn’t need me around.” Dean frowned a little and looked away. Jo gave him a squeeze. 

“It’s okay to miss him, y’know. Will they come for the Fourth of July party, y’think?” 

“Hope so.” Dean was smiling again. “Ellen’s already planning the menu, I think Bobby’s gonna roast a pig or some crazy thing.” 

Charlie laughed. “Wow, that’ll be epic. I hope there’ll be a veggie option! And you’ll be making pies?” 

Dean snorted. “Of course. Some things are tradition.” 

“Yeah, thank god for that. Hey, guys, I need to head back. I got stuff to finish up today, and I’ve got a date!” Jo waggled her eyebrows and raised her hand in farewell, then turned and worked her way through the crowd toward the street. 

“Mmm, Dean-pies.” Charlie smacked her lips in appreciation. “I can’t imagine a cookout without - Hey, you hear the music?” 

They were passing the open stairwell leading down to the underground, and Dean turned his heading, squinting. 

“I hear it too, it’s a whaddyacallit, that big violin thing only it sits on the ground?” 

Charlie rolled her eyes. “God, you uncultured dope. Cello?” 

“That’s it.” Dean snapped his fingers. “Ugh, classical music, so boring. I’d love to hear some Zep on that thing.” 

Charlie listened intently for a moment and then smiled. “Oh yeah, I’ve been hearing him a lot whenever I get down here on Saturdays. I chatted with him one day, he came into ZigZag for lunch when I was there. He’s a uni prof, music teacher, whatever. He plays the cello, really great stuff.” 

“Ugh, booooring.” Dean sidestepped a woman pushing a stroller, moving off to the side of the traffic flow. “Classical music is for eggheads and people who can afford symphony tickets. No thanks.” 

Charlie gave him a sly look. “Oh, I dunno. A good musician makes anything sound good, right? Isn’t that what you say?” 

Dean made a face. “Yeah, but, I dunno - classical musicians only play their stuff, and they’re snooty. Dated a girl once who played violin, and I called it a fiddle and told her there were some great rock riffs with fiddles, and she practically bit my head off. Snooty.” 

Charlie was full-on smiling now, all but laughing at him. “C’mon, let’s go down and listen a bit. I bet you’ll like it.” She had a glint in her eyes, like she knew something she wasn’t telling him, and Dean frowned at her as they started down the stairs. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay. We can go listen for awhile, I don’t wanna go back to work yet anyway.” They started down the stairs. 

The stairway was part of the original building, mostly concrete and old as the hills. At the bottom, the hallways to the underground shops angled off from a large central space, basically a concrete room. The acoustics were terrific, and there was always at least one musician in there playing to a small crowd. As they moved down the steps and into sight of the room, Dean could see a lot more people than usual crowding around, attention focused on the source of the music. 

There was quite a crowd, starting just outside the doors and gathered in the stairwell itself. He couldn’t see the cello, but he could hear the musician retuning, a low-pitched voice chatting with the audience. 

“Huh. Sounds like a showman.” 

Charlie smacked his arm. “Will you shut up and maintain an open mind? Jeez, Dean, when have I ever steered you wrong?” 

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Dean moved carefully through the crowd, trying to get a little closer so he could see as well as hear, Charlie right behind him. He stopped when he heard the music start up again; after a minute he identified the tune. 

“Hey, that’s U2!” he stage-whispered to Charlie. She winked and nodded, bright-eyed with humor. Dean made a face at her, turning back toward the source of the sound. He couldn’t quite see the musicians, but the music pouring out was pretty stunning. He shifted slightly to his left, till he could see a young woman with a violin tucked under her chin, playing the melody. There was a second cellist, another young one, sitting to her left. Dean shifted again, craning his neck and rising on his toes. He still couldn’t see everything, but the music was amazing; when the number ended and applause broke out, he joined in, grinning at Charlie. 

“See? See?” she exclaimed. “Isn’t it great?” 

“Yeah, I like it!” They both turned back as another selection started: Michael Jackson this time, rhythm sharp and insistent, instruments rising and falling dramatically. More applause, and then they swung into Highway to Hell, and Dean found himself laughing and moving to the music.

Applause and cheers. The violinist turned toward the crowd - she was very young, high school age maybe - smiling and blushing and bowing self-consciously, then knelt down to close up her instrument in its case lying on the floor. She leaned toward the cello player to say something, then waved to crowd and headed up the stairs. The noise died down, and Dean heard the cellist speak again. 

“Thanks, everybody, for making my students feel so welcome. I’ve got one more number and then we’ll call it a day. Thanks again for your kind attention.” There was a pause, a moment of silence, and then Dean heard the cello tear into a very familiar tune: AC/DC’s Thunderstruck. His mouth dropped open; wide-eyed, he turned to look at Charlie. She was grinning and showing him two thumbs-up. 

Dean had never heard any instrument outside of an electric guitar make sounds like that. Leaning a little farther to the side, he could just see the cello from the side: a spindly, skeletal electronic cello, black and gleaming in the light, bow flying over the strings with such force Dean could see loose horsehair trailing out behind it. The sound was electrifying: wild, hard-pounding, echoing off the concrete walls. As it rushed to an end Dean realized he’d been holding his breath, and gasped in a gulp of air. The applause rang out, everybody cheering, he could hear the cellist’s voice calling out _thank you, see you next time!_ Chattering excitedly, the crowd started moving away, back into the Market, up the stairs, clearing out around Dean, whose feet were rooted to the spot. As the crowd dispersed he got his first look at the musician who’d held them all spellbound: 

Dark hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in weeks; broad shoulders and muscular arms; strong hands supporting his instrument as he wiped down the neck, unplugged the amp, leaned forward to carefully lower the cello into its case. Dean could feel a smile growing on his face. 

“Well, that was fairly amazing.” He stepped forward toward the cellist, his most charming smirk in place. He could practically hear Charlie rolling her eyes behind him. “Who knew a boring old cello could make music like that?” 

The dark head jerked up, and Dean found himself face to face with blazing blue eyes and a clearly infuriated musician. He took a half-step back and raised his hands, palms outward.

“Whoa, buddy, take it easy, no offense intended. I really liked what I heard, right up my alley. I just wasn’t expect-” 

“You weren’t expecting a boring old cellist to make music you liked?” The low, gravelly voice dropped into an even deeper growl, and Dean flushed. He opened his mouth to make a smartass comment, but the fellow rolled right over him. 

“Perhaps you should consider the possibility that it’s not my technique or the capabilities of the instrument to blame, but your musical ignorance? That seems more likely.” He was glaring fiercely, face flushed and fists clenched, and Dean gulped. 

“Hey, pal, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to piss you off. You sounded great, really.” He tried to smile. 

Dean’s usual charm was failing him; the guy made a dismissive noise. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t put much store by your _opinion_.” He was practically sneering, and Dean was getting a little pissed himself. 

“Hey, screw you, I’m trying to pay you a compliment.” Dean glared at the man, who gave him a sardonic stare, up and down, and shrugged dismissively. 

“Thanks for nothing. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to get on with my _boring_ day.” One more fierce stare, and the man turned aside sharply, gathered up his belongings and marched off without a backward glance. 

Dean stood watching him go, mouth agape. Despite his annoyance, he couldn’t help checking the guy out as he headed up the stairs, and Dean heard a small voice in his head: _What the hell just happened??_


	3. Chapter 3

It was a long week after that - Dean spent time working up the proposal for the Smith job, briefed Bobby, and the two of them presented it to the client on Tuesday. To his relief it was a hit, so Dean met with Jo and her team and handed off the preliminary work to her. Bobby gave him a couple new proposals to research and draft some ideas for, and he actually made some decent progress. He met with his realtor, a friend of Charlie’s named Lisa; he’d been toying with the idea of buying an older house in West Seattle and refurbishing it, maybe with an eye to selling it when he was done, or maybe finally moving out of his apartment. The two of them spent most of one day driving around looking at every fixer-upper west of California Avenue. He went to a Thursday night ball game with Bobby and Rufus in the company box seats, and although baseball was not precisely his game, the food and drink definitely were. 

And the whole week, throughout all his distractions, Dean’s mind kept going back to the music, the power of it and the unexpected confrontation with the cellist. He couldn’t get the guy out of his head. Wednesday during their weekly phone call Dean found himself telling Sam about it. 

_“Well, did you get his number?”_

Dean sighed. “No, I was a little afraid he’d club me over the head with his cello. I think I may not have gotten across to you just how much of an asshole I was.” 

_“Oh no, I got that just fine. I’ve known you my whole life, it’s not hard to believe.”_ Dean could hear the barely-suppressed laughter in his brother’s voice, and he frowned into the phone. 

“Shut up, jackass, I need support here. I think I just blew my chance with the hottest guy I’ve seen in a long time.” 

_“Well, Dean, I’m no expert but I think if you apologize and remember your manners maybe you can set it right, get another chance to impress him. I mean, it might not work for you, but that’s how most people make friends.”_

“Jesus, were you always this much of a jerk?? I know I screwed up!” Dean sighed theatrically. “Now that I think about it, you might be right. I dunno though, he might throw something at me.” 

_“Cause of death: cello bow through the chest.”_

“Yeah, something like that.” Dean sighed again. “Okay, enough of my tragic life. How’s my beautiful sister-in-law doing?” 

By the time they hung up Dean had made up his mind: he was going to go back there Saturday, hope the guy was playing again, and do his best groveling. Crashing and burning remained a possibility, but all he could do was try. And remember his manners. 

 

Of course by the time Saturday came, he’d flipflopped half a dozen times. He was in the office again, and so twitchy and fidgety Jo finally snatched the blueprints out of his hands and thumped them onto the drawing table. 

“For god’s sake, Winchester, what is your problem? You’ve been jumpy as a terrier all week. Are you coming down with something?” 

“Shit, Jo, don’t mess with those, those are the final prints! I’m fine, leave me alone.” Dean scowled darkly, to no avail. 

“Bullshit.” Jo’s scowl was just as dark, and a lot more effective. “You can’t sit still for more than five minutes. You jump a foot when the phone rings. I have to repeat myself every time we talk because you aren’t listening. Ava at the front desk asked me yesterday if you’re okay, you haven’t answered her all week when she says good morning. You completely forgot to pick up the stuff at the printer yesterday, even though _you_ told _me_ a half dozen times you’d take care of it. And these aren’t even the right prints for Bobby. What is your deal?” 

Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes. God, he’d been leaking all over everything, clearly. “Sorry, I’m just - sorry, Jo. You’re right, I’m way distracted. Have I messed up anything crucial?” He looked at her, his expression anxious, and she softened. 

“No, you’re fine, everything’s fine. You’re just usually so focused, on top of things, everybody else leans on you, you know that. It’s weird to see you so out of it.” She watched him for a moment. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

For a long moment Dean stood completely still looking at Jo. She looked back, eyebrows raised questioningly, and he gave in and told her the whole story: going with Charlie to the stairwell, hearing the cello, his snarky classical-music riffs, hearing the wizardry and appreciating the view, until he ran head-first into Angry Cellist. 

“And it’s my own fault, I totally had that coming but he’s really good-looking, and he was playing the shit out of AC/DC and U2, and I think I blew it but Sam says if I act nice maybe we can start over? And I was all set to do that today but what if he really hates the sight of me? I don’t want to get shot down in front of God and everybody. I don’t know what to do.” He thumped his forehead on the desk, moaning piteously. 

Jo chuckled. “Oh my god, you’re such a drama queen. Dean, c’mon, you know Sam’s right. You have to get back on the horse even if it bucks you off. You’ll beat yourself up for the next six months if you don’t, and frankly if that happens I’ll have to get a new job because I don’t think I can stand being around whiny teenager you much longer.” 

Dean heaved another sigh and pushed back in his seat. Jo glanced at her watch and smiled encouragingly. 

“Get up, princess. Go on, head on down there now. It’s not too early for lunch, if you need an excuse, and I’m guessing he’s down there now, or will be soon. Get off your ass, boss, get moving! True love waits!” She was grinning and jerking her thumb toward the door, and Dean groaned his way to his feet. 

“Okay, okay, I’m going! Geez, you’re a nag, how did I not notice that in the interview process?” 

“I didn’t need an interview, bonehead. Bobby hired me the minute I graduated and you know it.” 

Dean hmphed. “Lucky for you, I’d’a kicked your bossy ass out the door. Quit pushing!” Dean hooked his jacket off the rack as he went by; Jo blew him a kiss and laughed as he raised his middle finger. 

 

It was a little cloudy, threatening rain, and the usual Saturday crowd hadn’t quite materialized by the time Dean arrived. He took a pass at the stairwell, peeking nervously over the railing, ready to jump back so as not to be seen. He caught himself and shook his head - _what are you, twelve??_ \- and leaned over the edge. Nobody was there yet; he let out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding, and continued down the stairs to the underground. 

One bowl of chowder later he was loitering near the doors, pretending to window shop and feeling more awkward by the minute. Finally, he heard the rustle and murmur of voices, a chair being setting up, the sounds of a cello being tuned. Dean slipped through the door and sidled along the wall, staying out of sight of the stairwell. After a few minutes the voices fell silent, and the cello began. He recognized the tune: a NIN song Johnny Cash recorded a year before his death; mournful, full of regret. Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat; he realized suddenly that he was only hearing the cello. The other musicians that were playing last week weren’t there; everything he heard, all the notes and rhythmic bass line, was all the cello. 

_This guy is amazing,_ he thought as he moved a little closer, past the edge of the stairway until he could see man and cello sitting in the open space. The ending notes drifted upward like dust motes in the thin sunbeam streaming through the windows. For a second it was completely silent, everyone caught in the same spell, and then people started clapping and cheering. The cellist smiled and nodded, and then started up again, Metallica this time. Halfway through he had everybody clapping along, Dean with them, unable to resist the upbeat sound. 

His last tune started low, a fast, scratchy rhythm that exploded into a minor-key high-energy pulse that sounded so familiar - Dean finally recognized the Pulp Fiction theme, and broke into a grin. When it was over the stairwell erupted in wild applause. 

The cellist stood, one hand loosely wrapped around the cello’s neck, and bowed, smiling at the applause and hoots of approval. People started moving away, voices trailing behind them, and Dean shifted and moved around them, slowly making his way toward the open space and his target. He was almost there when someone called out from the opposite side. 

“Hey Cas! Cassie, that was awesome, oh my god!” The cellist’s head came up and he slanted a grin at the man approaching him. 

_Cas_ , Dean thought. _His name’s Cas_. 

“Hello, Gabe, glad you could make it. You liked it?” 

“Oh god yes, you sound fantastic! No student this time?” 

“No, their schedules are usually even busier than mine, they’re not always free. It sounded okay without another instrument?” 

“Of course, you dope, solo you playing nursery rhymes would sound awesome, you know that.” 

The man chuckled warmly. “Thank you, Gabe.” 

Dean chose that moment to step forward, smiling awkwardly at both of them. “Yeah, that was great. Hi, Cas, my name’s Dean, I don’t know if you remem-” 

He stopped, nearly choking on his words as Cas turned to look at him, smile disappearing and face darkening. “Yes, I remember you very well.” 

“Uh…” Dean cleared his throat and fidgeted, trying for a smile. 

“Ah good, well, I was - um, I really enjoyed that and I was, uh, I was wondering if I could, y’know, buy you a coffee or something. There’s a great place up near the top of the stairs-” 

“Yes, I’m familiar with it. I stop there often, with _friends_.” If anything, Cas’ voice was colder, more stern. Dean gulped, and before he could say anything else Gabe, still standing at Cas’ elbow and smirking, let out a snort of laughter. 

“Wow, Cassie, I think he’s trying to ask you out. It’s hard to tell for sure, he sucks at it, but you oughta jump right on that.” Gabe elbowed Cas and leered. 

“Hey-” Dean started to speak just as Cas did the same. 

“No, thanks, I’m familiar with this - _gentleman_ , and I don’t think so.” Cas favored Dean with one last withering glare, and turned his back, bending to pack up his instrument. 

Dean stood there awkwardly for a moment, and then stumbled over his feet as he turned away. His last sight was of Gabe’s exaggerated wink. 

 

 

“I dunno, Charlie, he was pretty pissed.” Dean leaned back and took a gulp of beer from his bottle, phone pressed to his ear. He was slouched in one of the comfy chairs on his little balcony, overlooking the street and the harbor down the way. The view was great, the weather perfect and the beer cold, but he was gazing miserably up at the darkening sky and bouncing one knee in agitation. 

_“Well, I can’t really blame him, pal, sounds like you were your usual tactful self.”_ Despite her words, Charlie’s voice was sympathetic. _“What did you expect, really?”_

Dean sighed, squirming in his seat. “I know, I know. It was not my finest hour. I just-” 

After a moment Charlie prodded him. _“Just what?”_

“I got stupid, I guess. For crap’s sake, I usually don’t have any trouble talking to people, or, or flirting or whatever! I don’t know what my problem was.” 

_“Wellll…”_ Charlie fell silent for a second. _“Could it be this guy’s not your usually target audience?”_

“Nice, that sounds real romantic.” Dean scowled at his feet, propped up on the other chair. 

_“I don’t mean anything bad, just that this guy’s different for you, right? He’s as, I dunno, accomplished as you are, obviously as hot as you are.”_ Dean snorted, and Charlie giggled. _“And maybe you feel...out of your league a little?”_

“Huh.” Dean blinked. “Yeah, maybe.” 

_“Yeah. And that little John Winchester voice in your head speaks up, obnoxious little fucker says you’re not good enough or whatever nasty, hateful BS it usually says. Right? So we gonna allow that, soldier?”_

“No ma’am, we are not.” Dean sat up straight and pushed to his feet, grabbing the now-empty beer bottle with his free hand. “I’m gonna go back down there Saturday and ask him again. Thanks, Charlie.” 

_“Hey, no problem, I’ll just add it to your tab. Good luck, doll. Call me after?”_

Dean smiled into the phone. “Yep.” 

 

Applause died down, crowd drifting away, no Gabe in sight this time. Dean waited until most of the audience had gone, and approached slowly, smiling nervously. 

“Hey, uh, hi, Cas, it’s me, Dean. Great sound today, really liked it.” He just managed to keep from wiping his damp palms on his jeans as Cas straightened and looked over at him, almost expressionless. Dean cleared his throat. 

“There was some classical stuff in there today, right? That was great, I think you’re turning me into a, a classical music fan or something.” He winked awkwardly, and Cas raised a disdainful eyebrow. 

“So, um, still wondering if you’d like some coffee? Or maybe tea? Tenzing Momo’s always got-” 

“Are you actually trying to convince me you’re a tea drinker? You must be desperate.” 

“Uh - well, no, I’m not, but I thought maybe you were and you’d rather -” 

“Oh, boring music professors drink tea, is that it? Go away.” 

“Nono, I didn’t - I just meant -” 

“No.”

~~~

 _“H’lo?”_

“No go, Charlie. I even offered him tea.” 

_“Mmm. So what’s the plan?”_

“Gettin’ back on the horse next week.” 

_“That’s my boy.”_

~~~

“Heya Cas, really liked the Beatles medley today. What’s your favorite-” 

“I’m no lawyer, but I feel certain this is approaching actionable levels of stalking.” 

“Coffee offer’s still on the table.” 

“The answer is still no. Unbelievable.”

~~~

“I don’t care any more, Sam. At this point I’m just trying to set a record, I can’t give up now.” 

_“Well, you’re persistent, I’ll give you that. You sure you want to keep throwing yourself at the brick wall?”_

“Yeah, I think I’m starting to like it, god help me. Distract me, what are you guys up to?” 

_“Oh yeah, I forgot I have news. I got that job, remember I was telling you about the phone interview? The firm that works with the child advocacy center?”_

“Oh right, cool, congratulations! Will you have to move?” 

_“Um, well... I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure it would go through and I didn’t want to get everybody all excited and have it not work out. But the firm’s in Seattle. We’re moving in a few weeks.”_

“What?? Oh my god, Sam, that’s fantastic! You jerk, you should have told me!” 

_“Nah, I wanted to surprise you.”_

“Well, it worked. Damn, I’ll be glad to have you guys around.” 

_“Yeah, it’ll be great to be in the same city again. Maybe Jess and I can give you dating pointers.”_

“Shut up.”

~~~

“Good morning, Cas. Dean again. Just saying hey, that was awesome, I can’t figure out why you’re not giving concerts or something, I’d pay real money to -” 

“I actually play with the Seattle Symphony. Perhaps you’ve heard of them. I encourage you to buy a ticket and occupy a seat far, far away from me.” 

“Hey, that’s a great idea, I’ll do that. Thanks, Cas. Are you by any chance free right now? You could tell me about the next concert.” 

“This is pathetic, really. I’m going to have cards printed, or maybe a big banner. NO.”

~~~

“Wow, amazing, Smooth Criminal, Michael Jackson is rolling over in his grave, coffee, tea, lunch? A swim in the harbor?” His best, most charming smile, he’d been practicing, but - 

“You’ve got a whole team of psychiatrists jumping through hoops, don’t you?” 

“What? No, I’m just -” 

“Enough. Don’t bother trying to justify this behavior. I’m keeping notes, and I assure you, if you don’t stop I will make a formal complaint. Your parole officer hasn’t been born yet. Now leave me alone.”

~~~

“Hey, Charlie,” Dean couldn’t quite find it in him to give his usual cheerful greeting, and Charlie picked up on it right away. 

“What’s up with you, sourpuss?” She was alternately smiling and handing a brown paper sack to her customer, and frowning over at him. “Who peed in your lunch?” 

Dean sighed. “Sorry. I’m just - sorry, no reason. Just a lousy day.” 

“Thanks, see you next time!” Charlie waved cheerily to the woman and little girl, the child clutching the package to her chest, and turned to Dean. “So, did something happen? Everything okay at work?” 

“Yeah, everything’s great. Sam and Jess are moving to Seattle pretty soon, did I tell you that? Yeah, and Bobby helped me get that stupid project back on track, we got lots of other stuff coming down the line, I’m working like crazy. I’m just….” he trailed off and fiddled with something on the table, unable to meet Charlie’s gaze. 

“Hey. Hey Dean.” Charlie reached over and squeezed his hand. “C’mon, you can tell me. What’s wrong?” 

“Well, you know I’ve been -” he gestured with his chin down the market toward the stairs, like that was supposed to explain anything. “And it’s just not…” 

“Hold up, golden boy.” Dean could hear the chuckle in Charlie’s voice, and he scowled at her. “D’you mean the cellist? The guy you’ve been inviting to coffee like a broken record, that you’re, like, 0-for-10 with?” 

“Nice, rub it in, thanks.” Dean snapped, and then looked away, out toward the street, immediately ashamed of himself. “Sorry. Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. I ain’t as smooth as I used to be, I admit, but damn, I’m starting to think I’ve completely lost my touch. Next stop the convent, or something.” 

Charlie laughed out loud, and then bit her lip, looking contrite. “Nah, there’s nothing wrong with your game. It’s just…” She frowned down at her hands for a second. “I know you didn’t exactly get a good jump out of the starting gate, so to speak.” Dean snorted, and she made a face at him. “But it’s not just that. I know Cas a little, and he’s - not shy exactly, he’s just sort of, um, sensitive, I guess you’d say? He’s a great guy, big heart, all that. He’s just reserved at first. It takes him awhile to trust people.” 

Dean was watching her, focused completely, listening intently. “Why is that, any idea?” 

Charlie looked back at him speculatively. “Well, I don’t know the whole story. And it’s not my story to tell, y’know? I know he comes from a big family that he rarely talks about and never sees, if that’s a clue.” 

“Hmm.” Dean sighed and glanced toward the other end of the market again. “I dunno, I hate to keep bugging him, I just feel like… He plays a lot of rock songs, y’know, which was really a surprise, and I think I’m starting to like some of the classical stuff, god help me. And every time I see him, I go up to him and it always feels like - like, there’s something there, like if I could just figure out how to approach him. But he always shuts me down.” He looked back at his friend and smiled ruefully. “What’s the city ordinance about stalking, anyway?” 

Charlies smiled back. “You’re not stalking him, not yet anyway. Tell you what: I’m about ready for a break. Why don’t I come with you and listen for awhile? And then if you’re still feelin’ it you can talk to him, and if things go south then you can take me to lunch. I won’t say no to some clam chowder.” She winked, grinning mischievously, and Dean couldn’t help laughing. 

“Fine, fine, let’s go. Good job finagling a free lunch out of me.” He winked back. Charlie looked over at Garth, who nodded and made a shooing gesture, shaking his head as she scurried around the table and took Dean’s arm. 

“C’mon, let’s go! I can smell that fresh bread!” 

 

They made their way through the produce stalls and the flower sellers; it was a little too busy to chat easily. After a few minutes Dean noticed Charlie turn her head to skim the information on a flyer tacked up on a post. She was frowning, her face tight and jaw clenched. Dean moved a little closer. 

“What’s up, your highness?” Dean craned his neck to look back but couldn’t quite see the paper any more. “What was that about?” 

“Ugh, there’s been - did you hear anything about a mugging last weekend?” 

“Yeah, now that you mention it. A girl was hurt?” 

Charlie nodded, her face grim. “Yeah, she was one of the vendors, has a table down from mine, silver wire jewelry, really nice. She’d just left the market, was about three steps down the stairway outside and this guy grabbed her. The weird part, though, he didn’t rob her or anything, left her bag, didn’t try to take anything. He just dragged her down to that little landing and punched her a couple times, twisted her arm up behind her back and then pushed her down on the landing.” 

“Wow! Did she get a look at him?” 

“Sort of, just for a second. The flyer has a rough sketch, looks kinda generic but at least it’s something. Everybody’s pretty spooked. I mean, there’s always somebody trying a little light theft and robbery. It sucks but it’s part of the gig, y’know? But this guy… it was like he was trying to hurt her.” 

Dean pulled Charlie’s arm a little tighter to him. “God, Charlie. Do you need somebody to… I dunno, walk you home?” 

Charlie laughed up at him, her eyes warm again. “My hero. Nah, most of the time there’s somebody going my way. Or Dorothy comes down and walks with me.” Her cheeks went slightly pink, and Dean smirked and nudged her. 

The sound of sudden applause stopped the conversation; they both looked toward the stairwell, just ahead, and started walking a little faster. 

 

The music grew louder as they descended the steps, echoing on the concrete walls. Classical piece, by the sound of it: dramatic, mournful, energetic. The stairwell was full of people, sitting on the steps above and below, hanging over the upper rail, standing four or five deep around the little clear space where Cas and his cello were. Dean worked his way down the steps, Charlie in tow, and found a spot at the bottom where he could still see. It was a tribute to the music and the musician that this hip Saturday crowd, mostly college kids and a few twenty-somethings, was rapt with attention. The applause at the end was long and enthusiastic. 

Dean shuffled and edged his way up to the front, and before long there was nobody between him and his target, currently wiping down the neck of the sleek black cello. Dean fidgeted, glancing back at Charlie, who gave him a pointed look and a sharp gesture, and turned back - to see Cas’ blue eyes boring into his. His face was expressionless; he looked like he was waiting to see if something new and improved was going to come from Dean this time, or just the same-old same-old. He raised an eyebrow, and Dean thought, _Jesus, just spit it out so we can get outta here_. He tried an uncertain smile. 

“Hey, great job, that was fun. Uh, I was, y’know, here I am again, like a bad penny, right?” No response, and Dean suddenly just gave up. “Right. Just, um - sorry about all the other times, I don’t know what came over me. I really do enjoy your playing, the rock songs brought me in but the classical stuff is growing on me, I’m actually going to catch a concert or two, so thanks for that. Uh - yeah, that’s all, just-”

“Yes.” 

“...thanks for - Wait, what??” 

And that was almost a smile, one corner of his mouth tilted up slightly. “I said yes. I may have overestimated you, however. Do you need me to explain my response?” Those blue eyes crinkled, and Dean let out a relieved gust of air. 

“No, no, I got it. Coffee okay?” 

“Certainly. There’s a great little place at the other end of the Alley, excellent pastries and a nice atmosphere. Quieter.” 

“Yeah, I think I know it. Le Panier?” 

Cas bent to slide the cello carefully into its bag, and straightened. There was a real smile on his face this time. “Lead the way.” 

Dean practically fell over himself turning around. “Yeah, sure. Here we go.” He knew he had a big dumb grin on his face when he passed Charlie and she winked at him.


	4. Chapter 4

Two hours later they were still sitting at the window counter, working their way through the croissant menu and talking animatedly. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t start playing rock until you got here. I mean, you play like you love it.” 

“I do. It’s a feast of complex rhythmic signatures, unusual harmonic structures, classic themes. The musical mastery, the musicianship of the artists is breathtaking. What?” 

Dean was laughing and shaking his head. “Nothing, I agree, rock music’s amazing. I just never heard it described like that. You make it sound classy.” 

“It is. That’s the beauty of music, of studying it as well as playing it. I learned a long time ago that the structure of classical music, the incredible beauty of its construction, is present in all kinds of music. Pavarotti was famous for reaching across musical boundaries and creating partnerships with musicians from all kinds of genres.” 

“Who?” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “Luciano Pavarotti, you philistine. He was a -” Cas broke off, seeing Dean’s smirk across the table. “You already know who he was.” 

“Yeah, of course. Just pullin’ yer chain.” Dean chuckled. 

“Yes, I see that, well done.” Cas shook his head, and then leaned back in his chair, regarding Dean with an intent look. It was more focused attention than Dean was used to, and he squirmed. 

“What? I was just joking around, don’t get pissy. I like seeing you get spooled up, that’s all.” Deans frowned, folding his arms across his chest. 

“That’s fine, I’m not ‘pissy’.” Cas made a face. “I’m just - well, the fact is I’m a little confused. Charlie was right, you’re not who I thought you were.” 

Dean regarded him warily. “I can’t tell if that’s good or bad.” 

“I’m not sure either, to be honest. No, don’t make that face, I’m not going to storm out. It’s just that you’ve been such a pain in my ass all these weeks, I’m afraid I’d gotten used to thinking of you as a, a sort of city rube, a malcontent with marginal musical tastes and no manners. Somebody who spends his leisure time making fun of other people, and missing social cues.” Cas smiled benignly at Dean’s increasing sputter and his red face. 

“So what changed your mind?” Dean hunched his shoulders and scowled, pulling himself in and preparing to get his feelings hurt. 

“Well, partly your persistence, I have to admit. And partly Charlie’s insistence that I wasn’t given you a fair chance.” 

Dean’s brain finally caught up with the conversation, and he leaned forward suddenly. “Wait, hold up, Charlie? You talked to Charlie about me?” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “We have tea together every once in awhile, and a few days ago she said something to me about you, about being patient and seeing past the surface. And she was right. There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye.” 

“Yeah?” Dean could feel his face heat up. “Like what, for example?” 

Cas smiled slyly. “I don’t know yet.” He was still smiling as he gathered up plates, napkins, his mug, and got to his feet. “I’m sorry to break this up, I’m enjoying your company but I have a student in a little while and rehearsal tonight.” He looked down at Dean, who was still sprawled in his chair, mouth open a little. “Are you all right?” 

Dean shook himself, blinking as though he was just waking up. “Um, yeah, I’m - yet? You said yet.” 

Cas laughed. “All in due time, my friend. I’ll see you soon, I hope.” He quirked an eyebrow and nodded to Dean, then turned away and headed for the door, dropping his dishes in the bin as he passed. 

Dean stayed in his seat for a long time, long after Cas disappeared down the crowded street. He was pretty sure there was a goofy smile on his face again. _See you soon._

 

 

Saturday quickly became coffee-with-Cas day. Dean still regularly spent at least a few hours in the office, but now he made sure to be down at the Market by noon. After a few weeks, if Dean wasn’t there in time to hear Cas’ performance, Cas took to hanging around the stairwell listening to other musicians after he’d had his turn. Dean always came down the stairs looking for him; when their eyes met Cas always gave a little half-smile and a nod, moving through the crowd to meet him. It was clear he’d been waiting for Dean. 

Coffee evolved into long lunches, then afternoons wandering around the Market area and beyond. Cas insisted on taking Dean to the art museum one rainy afternoon; on a particularly cold morning Dean took Cas to the Biscuit Bitch for a monster breakfast. For once Dean couldn’t concentrate fully on his meal; Cas’ blissful expression and happy noises were way too distracting. 

One afternoon at lunch Dean discovered that as long as Cas had lived in Seattle, he’d never been up the Space Needle. Dean rushed them through lunch and bustled Cas out the door and up the street to catch the monorail, scolding all the way - “You really haven’t?? All this time and - I can’t believe you’ve never even been there!” He shut up when they got to the top though, tongue-tied at the look on Cas’ face as he walked slowly around the perimeter, eyes never leaving the sweeping view. When Cas turned toward him, beaming, Dean had to take a deep breath before he could speak. 

That night Dean lay awake a long time, blinking at the ceiling and unable to shut off his brain. It was becoming harder and harder to ignore the warm feeling in his belly, the flutter of nerves whenever he first saw Cas’ little half-smile when he caught sight of Dean, the anticipation when Saturday rolled around. Ordinarily Dean would have no problem making his move; but this was no ordinary situation, he could feel it. 

And the worst part was that he couldn’t seem to get a read on Cas. They were having a lot of fun, Cas seemed to enjoy his company, liked going to museums and new restaurants and walking around the city with him, and then would wave cheerfully, _see you next time, Dean_ , and off he would go without a backward glance. It was beginning to feel like maybe Dean was the only one carrying a torch, a situation he was pretty unfamiliar with, and at times like this, late at night alone with his thoughts, he wondered whether he should back off, save himself. But he didn’t want that either, didn’t want to lose this new friendship, even if that was all it was. He finally drifted off very late, sleeping fitfully until morning. He forced himself out the door for a run, hoping to clear his head, and by the time he got back and had a shower he was firmly back in the ‘let’s keep going and see what happens’ camp. 

 

Naturally, some of their liveliest conversations revolved around music. Cas, who was classically trained from childhood, struck the first blow in his youthful rebellion by insisting on a public university rather than the private, religious institutions his parents favored. He resisted their subtle and not-so subtle pressures, researched a number of schools whose music professors and curricula were not only highly regarded, but had the additional advantage of being on the opposite coast from his family home. It didn’t take him long to narrow it down to a handful of schools on the west coast, and he chose the University of Washington, in part because his sister Anna was already there. A campus tour, and a couple of days spent exploring the area, convinced him; conversations and an audition with several professors and the head of the department convinced them to offer him a scholarship and a few grants. 

Cas also decided, in defiance of the family norm, to live in a dorm, and then in a communal house just off-campus. Two of his housemates were rock musicians, and as soon as they learned he was a music major, insisted that he go out with them to the clubs they performed in. After that he was smitten, and took to spending his free time on weekends haunting local music clubs. It wasn’t long before he was creating arrangements of rock music for cello, and shortly thereafter his friends convinced him to get onstage with them. 

“So you’ve been playing at the Market since college?” Dean looked up from his lunch, his lasagna forgotten. 

“No, there was never enough time for it when I was in college. I always had classes or rehearsals during the day on the weekends, and most weekend nights the Fallen Angels had gigs. I played a lot of music in those days.” Cas smiled wistfully, and Dean felt his heart squeeze. 

“You miss it, don’t you?” 

Cas made a wry face. “Yes, sometimes I do. I play a lot of music now, but it’s different somehow, not as - I don’t know, carefree maybe. That’s why I started playing at the Market after I began teaching. It’s more unstructured, more like the playing I did in college.” 

Dean nodded. “I get that. I did some playing in college too, same kind of thing, I guess. Just a bunch of guys and girls that loved the music and jammed together.” 

Cas hummed thoughtfully. “That’s right, you’d mentioned that you played. Mostly rock?” 

“Yep. Classic rock for the most part, but some later stuff too. I’m not very educated though, I don’t know much about the stuff you do. The classical stuff, I mean.” 

“I know.” Cas smirked at him, and Dean huffed. “I’ve studied it for years, and I sometimes forget that not everybody else has. I know it sounds boring.” 

Dean flushed and looked down at his plate. “I still feel like a jerk about that. I thought it was boring because I didn’t understand it. I really am sorry.” 

“No need to apologize.” Cas smiled warmly at him. “I know that, I knew it at the time but I was too impatient, I suppose. I was…” He trailed off, frowning into his glass as he took a drink. 

“What?” 

Cas shook his head. “I tend to respond badly to criticism, or jump to conclusions about it, I think. I don’t - I’m a little prickly, I know that.” 

“Hmmm.” Dean tilted his head and regarded Cas thoughtfully. “Y’know, you’re not usually like that, about other things, I mean. Was it something I said?” 

Cas sighed and toyed with his silverware. “Uh… Family stuff, nothing important. I want to hear more about your music. Do you still jam with your friends?” 

“No, not really. Most of them moved away after school, there’s just a couple of them left in the area. We’re all so busy it’s tough to get together. I miss it, now that we’re talking about it. There’s nothing like making music with a bunch of people, y’know?” 

Cas was nodding before Dean finished. “Definitely. Collaboration is the biggest reason I wanted to join the city symphony after I graduated. I wanted to keep playing with others. Several of us in the string section are forming an ensemble, which I have high hopes for as well.” 

“That sounds great.” It was Dean’s turn to smile wistfully. “Man, I should talk to Benny and Ruby, get together and play again. What?” 

Cas was watching him intently, a half-smile growing on his face. “I was just wondering what your response would be to the idea of, uh, collaborating with me.” 

Dean waggled his eyebrows and leered. “Heh. Depends on what you mean by collaborating, big boy.” 

“Oh for…” Cas rolled his eyes. “You idiot, I meant that I was thinking it would be enjoyable to work up some arrangements, do some rock tunes together.” 

Dean sat up straighter and blinked. “You mean… You mean, play together? Like at the Market?” 

“Well, I assume we’d get to the point where that would be the next logical step, yes. But I actually meant just make some music. What do you think?” 

Dean’s smile became a wide grin. “That sounds - that’s awesome, Cas. I’d love to do that. I dunno if I can keep up with you, but it’d sure be fun to try. You’re on, buddy.” 

By the time they finished lunch, they’d come up with a time during the next week to meet. They were both sporting silly grins as they said goodby; Cas headed toward the waterfront and his car, and Dean swung off up the street toward his apartment, whistling the opening bars of Highway to Hell. 

 

Over the next several weeks the two of them met regularly, alternating between Dean’s apartment and Cas’ little house in the University district. Late in the summer the weather was drier, and Cas’ back yard, with enough trees for shade, a nice little brick patio and surrounded by hedges for privacy, became Dean’s favorite place to play. He convinced Cas that as long as the summer weather holds, playing outside was vastly preferable, and Cas went along with it, smiling all the while. Occasionally they got applause from one or another of his neighbors; just as often, somebody’s barking dog accompanied them. 

These were some of Dean’s favorite summer activities. Playing with Cas reminded him how much he loved playing music, especially with other people. Another one of his preconceived notions was shattered forever: despite his overwhelmingly classical background, Cas turned out to be an ace at improvising. Dean often found himself running to keep up, and enjoying every second of it. 

On an early evening in August, a couple of weeks before the Labor Day weekend, they finished up a rousing session with an AC/DC tune, laughing as Cas’ neighbor, busy with his grill next door, started singing along, loudly and off-key, applauding when they finished. 

The two of them sat for a moment before packing up their instruments, flushed and grinning. Cas finally got up and eased his cello in its case, glancing over at Dean, who was still sitting in his seat, cradling his guitar in his hands, his face softening into a smile. 

“Are you all right?” 

“Um, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. That was fun, thanks.” 

“Yes, it was.” Cas smiled over at him as he closed the clasps on the case. “Can you stay and help me put together some supper?” 

“Sure, I’d like that. What are we having?” Dean got to his feet and packed up his guitar. 

“I’m not sure yet.” Cas winked. “I haven’t looked in my fridge.” 

 

Twenty minutes later, they settled at the kitchen table with a patchwork meal of leftover tabbouleh, flatbread, hummus and baba ghannouj. Dean eyed the contents of his plate suspiciously, picking at it with his fork. 

“What _is_ this? Are you secretly trying to convert me to veganism?” 

Cas laughed. “For a grown man you’re rather picky. It’s quite delicious, but it happens to be vegetarian as well. Try it before you judge, all right?” 

“Hmmm.” Dean took a forkful, tentatively putting it in his mouth. His eyes widened comically, and he quickly forked up some more. 

“Hey, you’re right, this is awesome!” 

“Not too garlicky? They sometimes put too much garlic in.” 

“Nah, no such thing. It’s great, where’d you get it?” 

Cas smiled in relief. “There’s a Lebanese restaurant on the Ave not far from my office. I go by there for lunch often, and I always have leftovers. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” 

“It’s perfect. Thanks, Cas.” For several moments the only sounds were the clink of forks on china, chewing and swallowing. Finally, Dean leaned back and took a swallow of his beer, frowning thoughtfully. 

“Hey, Cas, I was thinking.” 

“I’ll alert the media.” 

“Shut up.” They grinned at each other. “Practically the first thing I heard you play was Thunderstruck.” Cas nodded, smirking. “What?” 

“Yes, I remember very well.” He raised an eyebrow, and Dean flushed at the memory. 

“Yeah, well, I was overcome by your expertise, I can’t be held responsible for losing my mind.” 

Cas laughed out loud. “Nice recovery, well done. You were saying?” 

Dean winked. “I really liked what you did with that tune, it’s one of my favorites of theirs. But I came across a solo guitar recording of it that was really cool, and I was thinking how great it would sound to -” 

“Combine the two instruments?” Cas was already staring off into space, a slight frown between his brows, drumming his fingers on his chin. “Hmmm. That might actually be very appealing.” 

“Yeah?” Dean’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward, smiling brightly. Cas blinked and stared into his eyes as Dean started talking rapidly. 

“It’s got so much energy, y’know, it moves so much. I can totally hear the, whatever, the lead going back and forth, you know what I mean? And you, the cello has a lot lower range, that would make a great rhythm section. I just think - what’s the matter? You don’t like the idea? That’s okay, it’s totally cool if you don’t want to. I mean, it’s your tune, I just -” 

Cas blinked and tore his eyes away, shaking his head. “Sorry, I was - never mind. That actually sounds wonderful. What’s the recording you mentioned?” 

“Guy named Luca something, I’ll send you the file. Maybe after you’ve had a chance to listen to it we can start working on it the next time we get together?” 

Cas sat looking over at Dean, an almost-smile on his lips. “Yes, next time. Absolutely.” 


	5. Chapter 5

For the next couple of weeks they spent every possible moment working on Thunderstruck, as well as a couple of other tunes. Not that it happened very often; Cas’ schedule was still full, and Dean had enough projects in the pipeline that free time was limited. Still, they managed to carve out an hour here and there, and by Labor Day weekend, they were ready. 

The long weekend marked the official end of summer. The fine weather might continue, in fact usually did well into September, but summer activities were drawing to a close, along with the summer crowds at the Market. The holiday weekend was usually very busy, the crowds of tourists and visitors in their last hurrah before the start of school. There were even more people than usual gathering in and around the stairwell to hear the music. 

Dean wiped his free hand on his jeans as he descended the stairway. Cas was already getting set up, and he smiled and lifted a hand to Dean. Gabe, setting up a chair for Cas, smirked and waggled his eyebrows. 

“Greetings, pretty boy! How’s it hanging?” 

“Shut up, Gabe.” Dean scowled fiercely, and Gabe raised his hands, palms out. 

“Calm down, lover, I’m just joking.” He winked exaggeratedly, and then flinched when Cas elbowed him. 

“Gabe, either knock it off or leave now. Dean’s nervous enough.” Gabe started to reply, but wilted under Cas’ glare. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll leave you alone. Break a leg, guys!” He waved cheerily and bounded up the steps out of sight. 

“Ugh. Sorry, Cas, he just drives me nuts sometimes.” Dean set his guitar case down and looked apologetically at his friend. 

“Don’t worry about it. He does that to me regularly. I think he does it to everybody he likes.” 

“Huh.” Dean made a face as he lifted his guitar out and shouldered the strap. “Not sure him liking me is good news or bad.” 

“Interesting, I think. In the Chinese curse vein.” Cas winked and started tuning up. A murmur passed around the crowd as Dean did the same. Cas smiled around at the audience. 

“Good morning, everybody. I feel a little like I do at the symphony hall. Who are all these people?” He smiled at the chuckles, and Dean looked over at him, marveling at his cool. Cas didn’t look the least bit nervous, and Dean could feel his shirt sticking to him already. He took a couple of deep breaths. Cas winked at him again, and turned back to the crowd. 

“I have a special treat for you today. My friend Dean, who actually _is_ a rock musician, has agreed to help me out with a few tunes. I hope you enjoy it.” He looked questioningly up at Dean, and at Dean’s nod raised his bow and struck down hard in the opening bars of Thunderstruck. 

The crowd hummed approval at the familiar tune - and then gasped in delight when Dean joined in, fast and light. The melody line jumped from cello to guitar and back again, the steady, energetic bass line pumping along under it. Cas was focused, contained, intense. Every now and then when Dean glanced over at him, he saw a slight smile on Cas’ face. He was moving with the pulse of music, as relaxed as he was intent on what he was doing. The energy rose like a wave, sweeping Dean along with it. For his part, Dean found himself relaxing after the first terrifying moments, swaying in time, concentrating on his left hand racing up and down the fingerboard, his right hand strumming in powerful strokes. 

Before he was ready they were moving into the ending, the last chord ringing in the air. There was an instant of silence, Dean’s gaze jumped to Cas’s bright face, his smile, and he knew: they did good. The applause was deafening, shouts and cheers echoing up the stairwell. And in the tumult, Dean’s eyes never left Cas’; he was panting a little, open-mouthed, feeling the heat in his cheeks. Cas nodded firmly, gave him the thumbs up, and turned to bow and wave to the crowd. Dean remembered they weren’t alone, waved and laughed and whistled at the coins and bills appearing in the open instrument cases. And the whole time he felt like he’d stepped out of his body for a moment. Everything looked different. 

They ran through a couple of other tunes, and finally Cas called out, _that’s it for today, thanks, everybody!_ When the applause finally died down and people started trickling out - some pausing long enough to shake their hands, pat their shoulders, compliment them - when they were finally almost alone, Dean gulped in a couple of deep breaths. He started the usual packing-up routine, but this time his hands were damp and shaking a little, and he scowled down at them. _Chill out, Winchester, make your move!_

Meanwhile, Cas was packing up his cello, moving the chairs back again the wall, chatting amiably, oblivious to Dean’s fidgeting. 

“I thought that went very well, Dean. All that work really paid off. Thanks for the idea to arrange that tune, by the way. I love playing it, and it’s always been a hit with the audience, but it’s so much better with the addition of the guitar.” 

“Uh - yeah, it sounded pretty good. I like it too.” He glanced up to see Cas standing still, hand on the cello case, frowning at him. 

“Are you all right? You seem - distracted.” 

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just - distracted’s a good word for it.” 

“Is anything wrong? I heard from Charlie another vendor was mugged last weekend. I’m beginning to think we might need regular police patrols. Was there another one since then?” 

“Just the one last weekend, I think. Anybody hurt?” 

“Not really, just roughed up a little. It was frightening.” 

“Yeah, it is. I worry a little about Charlie, y’know?” 

Cas smiled gently. “Yes, I do too. And I admire your ability to change the subject.” 

Dean snorted, and turned to look at Cas, smiling back at him. “The bob-and-weave, my signature move. Sorry, I’m freaking out a little bit.” 

“Really? About what?” 

“I, ah…” Dean sighed again, and then squared his shoulders. “I was wondering if you’d, um, I don’t know if you’ve ever been to the Triple Door, but Wild Ginger is in there and their food is so great, and plenty of veggie options if you want that, and there’s a fantastic guitarist playing there tonight, the show starts at 7 so we’d have to have an early dinner but I was hoping that, um…” 

“I’d love to.” Cas’ eyes were twinkling, and he looked like he was just managing not to laugh out loud at Dean’s babbling. 

“Really? You really would?” 

“Of course, it sounds wonderful. Should we meet there, or…?” 

“Tell you what, why don’t you come down to my place later. There’s plenty of parking at night, and we can just walk over, it’s not that far.” 

Cas looked at him speculatively, and then nodded slowly, his smile warm. “Perfect. What time should I get to your place?” 

“Anytime after 4:30 or so. I was thinking if we get there by about 5 we should have plenty of time to eat before the show.” 

“That sounds fine, I’ll see you then. I’m very much looking forward to this, Dean.” Cas hoisted his cello, and Dean bent to pick up his guitar. He could feel his face practically split open, he was grinning so hard. 

“Yeah, me too. It’ll be fun. So, uh, I guess I’ll see you then.” 

“Yes, until then.” They stood there looking at each other, until Dean finally laughed, shaking his head and blushing. 

“All right, awkwardville, I’m out. Later, Cas.” He winked and headed for the stairs. Halfway up he looked back, to see Cas still standing in the stairwell, his face turned up toward Dean, a half-smile on his face. Dean barely suppressed a shiver as he reached the top and slipped into the crowd. 

 

Dean made an attempt to get some work done that afternoon, but between the high from performing with Cas and anticipation of the evening ahead he was so fidgety he couldn’t focus long enough to do anything but shuffle the papers on his desk. Finally he gave up, went out for a run up as many hills as he could find, and was ready to go at least a half hour early. The sound of the doorbell, on the dot of four-thirty, was a relief, until he remembered it was _Cas_. 

“Hey.” 

“Hello, Dean.” There was a pause during which Cas raised an eyebrow and gave Dean a quizzical look. “Um… Okay if I come in?” 

“Oh shit, of course.” Flustered, Dean stood aside to let him pass. “Sorry, I’m, ah… Yeah, come in.” 

Cas smiled. “It’s lovely out, I’m glad we’re walking down. Are you ready?” 

“Yep, just let me grab my stuff.” Dean fumbled around gathering phone, wallet, keys, and they headed out the door. 

It was a perfect evening to walk the few blocks to the Triple Door, but Dean was almost too on edge to enjoy it. Luckily Cas seemed content to stroll along beside him, hands in his pockets and a cheerful expression on his face. Dean breathed a little easier once they arrived. They were seated quickly; after a series of unspoken questions and answers Dean ordered for them both, and within minutes they were helping themselves from an assortment of small plates. Cas sighed contentedly. 

“This is wonderful, Dean. Thank you for ordering, I couldn’t have done better myself.” Cas took a sip of tea, smiling over the cup’s rim. 

“Yeah? Good, I was a little - I’m glad you like it. This is one of my favorite places.” 

Cas tilted his head, his face suddenly serious. “Really? I’m flattered, thank you for sharing it with me.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Dean was blushing for no reason he could think of, and he scowled down at his own cup. 

“Dean? Are you all right?” 

Dean sighed and leaned back, shaking his head at himself. “Yeah, sorry, Cas, I’m just, uh… Just a case of nerves, I guess.” 

“Nerves? Left over from our performance, you mean?” Cas looked genuinely puzzled, and Dean abruptly decided it was time to quit dancing around. 

“No, not that. I mean, I was nervous at first, but then…” Dean shook himself and started over. “I know it might seem like it’s out of left field but I’ve been thinking about this for awhile, and I was wondering if you’d - I mean - Jesus, I used to be smooth, I swear.” Cas chuckled, and Dean smiled back with relief. “What I’m trying to say is, I’d like to, uh, to date you.” 

Cas blinked, and then slowly leaned back in his chair, regarding Dean speculatively. There was a hint of a smirk on his face, and Dean started sweating and fidgeting all over again. Finally Cas spoke. 

“What do you think we’ve been doing?” 

Dean gaped, and then took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, I guess you’re right, I just want to be clear, y’know. I just want to make sure you know that’s what I want.” 

Now Cas was definitely smiling. “Are you under the impression I’m confused about your intentions?” 

“Hey, asshole, I’m trying to - wait, what? You were on board already?” 

Cas’ face shifted, from amusement at Dean’s squirming to something softer, warmer. “No, I - I wasn’t sure, about you, I mean.” He looked uncertain, and Dean could feel his heart pounding a little harder. “But I’m perfectly clear about how I feel. The answer’s yes, in case you were still wondering.” 

“Well.” Dean sat there with his mouth half open, blinking stupidly. He could feel something growing in his chest, like a bird unfurling its wings. It left him feeling a little breathless, but also like he could fly if he tried. 

“Is everything all right?” Cas was looking at him worriedly, and Dean grinned. 

“Yeah, everything’s - everything’s great. Yeah.” 

“Good, because we should probably head into the bar and get settled if we’re going to listen to music.” 

“Oh shit, that’s right.” Flustered, blushing, Dean got to his feet, fumbling his wallet out and feeling about fifteen years old. 

Cas was laughing outright. “Very suave. You’re sweeping me off my feet.” 

Dean made a face. “I was going for adorably awkward.” 

“Oh, in that case, perfect.” Dean scowled back at Cas, who winked and smirked at him as they headed into the bar. 

 

Almost two hours later they were back outside, strolling up the sidewalk and grateful for the cool air. 

“That was wonderful, Dean. I’ve never heard him play before, he’s amazing.” 

Dean ducked his head, a pleased smile on his face. “Glad you liked it. I really enjoy his stuff, he’s a little different, y’know? Not everybody’s cup of tea, I guess.” 

“Well, I thought he was excellent.” Cas smiled over at him. Dean took a deep breath. 

“So, um, you wanna come up for a drink?” His voice came out a little high-pitched, almost squeaky, and he was glad it was mostly dark. Cas chuckled. 

“That would be very nice, thank you.” He was smirking, just a little, and Dean made a face. 

“All right, smart ass, here we are. Come on in.” 

They were just arriving at Dean’s door when Cas’ phone buzzed in his pocket. Cas grimaced apologetically and fumbled his phone out. He glared down at the screen as though it had personally offended him. 

“It’s my sister Anna. I’m sorry, Dean, I should take this. She wouldn’t call me on Saturday evening unless - I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, no worries, I’ll get us a couple beers if that’s okay. Go ahead, have a seat, be right back.” Dean headed for the kitchen, heard Cas answering the phone. 

“Hello, Anna? What it is?” 

Dean rummaged in the fridge for beer, pulled out a drawer in search of a bottle opener - and became suddenly aware of Cas standing in the kitchen door, the phone still in his hand and a look of utter shock on his face. 

“Cas? Cas, what’s wrong, is Anna -” 

“Gabe.” Cas’ voice was hoarse and higher-pitched than usual, and Dean took a couple of steps toward him, reaching out a hand. 

“What? What’s happened?” 

Cas shook his head several times, as though he was trying to wake up. “It’s Gabe. He’s in the hospital, at Virginia Mason. He’s - they took him to the emergency room.” He sounded dazed, frightened. Dean carefully rested a hand on Cas’ shoulder. 

“God, what happened?? Was there an accident? How bad is it?” 

“I - I don’t know. He - Anna said they told her he was mugged, attacked on the street. I don’t - I don’t understand.” Cas frowned down at his phone. “She said he was unconscious.” His voice was shaking, and Dean took his arm. 

“Okay, let’s head up there. I’ll drive, okay? C’mon, Cas, let’s go, it’s okay. It’ll be okay.” 

Virginia Mason Medical Center was only about a mile from Dean’s apartment, but everybody seemed to be out on the town; the traffic was almost as bad as rush hour. Dean drove as fast as he dared, doing his best not to look over at Cas, sitting stiffly in the seat, hands clutched together in his lap. They were both silent; when they were a block or so away Dean asked if Cas wanted to be dropped at the ER entrance. Cas didn’t speak, just nodded tightly, and reached for the door handle before Dean was completely stopped. As Cas exited the car, moving fast, Dean called out, _I’ll be right in_ , but Cas didn’t appear to hear him. He didn’t even look back, just rushed through the sliding glass doors. Dean grimaced and circled through the drop-off lane and back out onto Spring Street. He’d have to circle around to the other side of the hospital to get to the parking garage, and it gave him a few minutes to deal with his thoughts. 

It had been years since Dean was anywhere near a hospital, and then only a couple of times. His father’s death, which left Dean with a mass of conflicting feelings that rendered him almost nonfunctional; and the dim memory of seeing his mother, pale and thin, a few days before her death. He didn’t speak for months after that one; he remembers hearing his dad and Bobby arguing at the top of their lungs, starting with whose fault it was that Dean wasn’t talking, and continuing into a long screaming match about who-knows-what. It never came up again; Dean never did understand what they were yelling about, but it was added to the miserable subconscious stew of loss and terror and grief that his little brain forever associated with hospitals. 

Now, turning the corner onto Seneca and making the left into the garage, Dean realized he was breathing a little fast, his palms were sweating and he could feel himself beginning to panic. He parked Baby and sat for a minute, hands tight on the wheel, taking deep breaths and willing himself to calm down. _I can’t leave Cas alone in there,_ he thought a little wildly. _I can fall apart later_. That was enough to push him out of the car and out to the street. He hurried down Seneca toward the eastern end of the hospital, took the first entrance he could find and asked for directions to the ER. 

When Dean walked in he spotted Cas right away, pacing and looking like he was ready to crack. Cas saw him and came rushing over. 

“How’s he doing? Have they let you see him yet?” 

“No, and I can’t get anybody to allow me back there. It’s supposedly family only, which is ludicrous. So many people don’t have blood family nearby! What if Charlie were in there? They wouldn’t let you back to see her!” He was working himself into a lather, and Dean smiled in what he hoped is a comforting way. He rested a hand carefully on Cas’ shoulder. 

“Hey. Hey buddy, slow down. We’ll figure this out, don’t worry. What did they tell you?” 

Cas let out a loud, shaky breath and wiped his face with one hand. When he looked back at Dean his face was a little calmer, his eyes focused. “It sounds like he’s not seriously injured, it’s not life-threatening at any rate. All they would tell me is that he has a broken arm, and a good-sized lump on his head. Not sure about the possibility of concussion yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

“Wow.” Dean winced in sympathy. “That all sounds fairly serious. Have the cops been here yet?” 

Cas nodded distractedly, glancing away as the door to the treatment rooms swung open to admit a nurse. “Yes, I think there’s a detective back there now. Although I can’t imagine they’ll get much from him right at the moment.” 

“Hmm. I can’t help wondering if…” Dean broke off, giving Cas’ arm a squeeze as the nurse approached them. 

“Mr. Novak?” He looked back and forth between them. 

“Yes, I’m Dr. Novak. I know I’m not family but Gabe is a lifelong friend, and he doesn’t really have family in the area, is there any way -“

The nurse smiled and held up a hand. “Our patient has instructed us to pretend you’re his brother. He’s, ah, quite the character.” 

Cas made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a sob, and Dean rested a hand on Cas’ back. “Yes, he certainly is. He’s conscious, then?” 

“Yes, very much so. He had a bit of a blow to the head and we’re concerned there might be a concussion. The doctor who’s looking at him hasn’t said for sure, but I think they’re planning to admit him for observation.” 

“Okay.” Cas fell silent, chewing on his lip and looking stricken. Dean patted him sympathetically, wishing he could take that look off his face. He turned to the nurse. 

“Is there a chance Cas can go in to see him, just for a minute?” 

“Yes, of course. Probably not for long, as soon as the doctor’s done they’ll want to take him right upstairs and get him settled for the night. But I’m sure it’ll be fine for you to look in on him here. I’ll come back and let you know when it’s time, all right?” 

Cas smiled gratefully. “Yes, that’s fine, thank you so much.” The nurse nodded at them both and moves off. 

“Well, that’s good, sounds like he’s gonna be fine. C’mon, Cas, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll find you some coffee, how’s that sound?” 

“N-no, thank you, Dean, I don’t think - Oh, there’s the detective, I’ll be right back.” Cas hurried off, and Dean stood thinking a minute, then crossed to the admitting station and stuck his head in. 

“Hi, excuse me, is there a place I can get some tea, maybe a muffin or something?” 

The admitting nurse glared up at him, frowning at the interruption. “Yes, there’s a little cafe just outside the hospital. Go out the ER doors and turn right, go past the hotel entrance and the cafe’s just beyond.” 

“Thanks, that sounds perfect. Thank you.” Dean turned, waving at Cas to get his attention. When Cas scowled at him he pantomimed _going outside, be right back!_ and headed for the door. 

Dean slipped back into the ER less than ten minutes later with a steaming cup of tea and a blueberry muffin wrapped in waxy paper. Cas was sitting in a chair against the wall, leaned forward with elbows on knees and his head in his hands. Dean eased into the seat next to him and nudged him gently. 

“Hey, we never did get dessert. Here ya go, buddy.” 

Cas pushed himself upright. He looked exhausted, and Dean’s heart went out to him. After a moment Cas looked down at the bag and the lidded cup in Dean’s hands, brow wrinkled. 

“What? No, I’m not-“ 

“I know, you’re not hungry. Do me a favor and have a couple bites. At least drink some tea. The girl said it’s herbal tea, Sleepy-time or something, it shouldn’t bother you later when you want to sleep. Just try a little.” He smiled encouragingly. 

Cas looked up at him with that intense stare, not moving or even blinking. His face softened, and one corner of his mouth tilted up. 

“Thank you, Dean. I - thank you. That’s very kind of you.” 

“Sure.” Dean shoved the tea and muffin awkwardly at Cas, not meeting his eyes. He could feel his face heating up. 

They sat quietly for several minutes, Cas sipping and nibbling by turns and slowly but surely relaxing in his chair. Finally, the nurse came out, looking around until he spotted them and then coming toward them. 

“Looks like your friend is about ready to head up to his room. You can pop in the exam room for a minute if you want.” 

“Thank you.” Cas nodded and stood, and then looked down at Dean uncertainly. 

“No worries, Cas, I’ll be here when you’re ready to go. Give him my regards.” 

Cas smiled, a real smile this time. “Thank you, Dean, I will. I won’t be long.” 

Dave waved him off and slouched into the chair, settling down to wait. 

 

It wasn’t long before Cas reappeared, still frazzled but looking a little calmer. Dean stood, watching him carefully. 

“So. How is he?” 

Cas blinked rapidly. “Oh, uh… He seems all right. The doctor says he does have a mild concussion, and a lot of bruising and abrasions. They’re taking him upstairs now.” 

“Keeping an eye on him overnight?” 

“Yes, he should be all right to go home sometime tomorrow, they tell me. I’m supposed to…” He trailed off, still blinking and rubbing his forehead. He looked so confused and vulnerable, and Dean just barely resisted the urge to hug him. 

“So how about this: you come to my place and have a shower, or not, whatever you want. You can sleep in, I’ll even cook you breakfast. What d’you say?” 

Cas frowned. “No, that’s too much - I don’t want to -” He swayed and blinked again, and heaved a sigh. 

“C’mon, Cas, you’ve been worrying all night about Gabe and you’re out on your feet. Just let me help you, ‘kay? Get some rest.” 

Cas looked up at him thoughtfully, nodded. “Yes, okay, that’s - thank you, Dean.” 

Dean smiled in relief and squeezed Cas’ arm. “Good. Let’s head out.” 

 

“So what’d the detective tell you?” 

They were just up the street from Dean’s apartment, the street quiet and nearly deserted at that time of night. Dean scanned the street for a parking spot as he waited for Cas’ response. 

“Gabe didn’t get much of a look at his assailant, he was attacked from behind. But he did get a glance and gave a bit of a description to the police. The detective believes it’s the same person who’s responsible for all the assaults around the Market these last several weeks.” 

“Wow.” Dean fell silent for a moment. “That’s just - weird. What’s this guy doing??” 

“No idea. Gabe wasn’t robbed, he had a wallet full of money but the man didn’t even stop long enough to search him.”

“Yeah, that’s the story from the other victims too. One girl had one of those little bank bags under her arm, and the guy never touched it.” 

“Hmmm.” Cas was quiet again, looking out the window at the street going by. Dean glanced over at him as he slid into a parking spot in front of his building. 

For a long, quiet moment they sat side by side, listening to the ticking sound of Baby’s engine cooling. Cas stirred and took a deep breath. 

“Dean, are you sure-“

“Yes, for the last time, I’m sure. It’s no trouble at all. I mean, I’ll take you to your place if you’d rather do that, but I don’t want you to be alone if you don’t want to.” 

Cas made a face, and glanced at Dean, not quite meeting his eyes. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“You’re very welcome. C’mon, let’s head upstairs. You can take a shower if you want, and even sleep in the big bed.” 

Cas gave him a startled look, and Dean blushed. “Nono, I didn’t mean that!” He shook his head at himself and started over. “I just mean it’s a very comfortable bed, private bath, you can sleep in if you want.” Cas frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Dean overrode him. “And don’t even bother, you’re not putting me out.” Dean keyed the door code into the keypad and pushed the glass door open, holding it for Cas. “I even have extra toothbrushes.” 

Cas smirked at him. “Really? My my, I’m in the presence of a true player.” 

Dean glanced quickly over at him, and then laughed out loud. “I’m strictly a wannabe, I promise you. Your virtue is safe with me.” 

“How disappointing.” Cas winked at Dean and stepped into the elevator, leaving him standing outside with his hand holding the door open. After a second Dean blinked and followed him, mind whirling.

 

To Dean’s disappointment, Cas was gone in the morning. Dean came stumbling out around eight - a little later than usual, after an exhausting night - to find a note on the kitchen counter by the coffee maker. 

_Dear Dean:_

_I managed to sleep a few hours before I woke up and couldn’t fall asleep again. I decided to go home and get fresh clothes before I have to pick Gabe up. I hope you don’t mind. I hate to run off without saying good-by, and without thanking you for your kindness and your help. You made a difficult evening much easier to get through, and I am grateful._

_I’m sorry our wonderful evening was cut short. You owe me a beer._

_Cas_

Dean stood for a long moment, holding the note in his hand and grinning down at it like a dope. He probably would have stood there all morning, reading and rereading, if his coffee maker hadn’t beeped. Dean went off to shower with a full cup in his hand, whistling cheerfully and composing an answering message in his head. By the time came back into the kitchen, still a little damp, he was ready: 

**deanw** _hey buddy i hate waking up to a note_  
_you can make it up to me by having dinner_  
_w/me tonight_

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer. 

**cnovak** _Yes. :)_


	6. Chapter 6

After that, it was as though Dean had taken a deep breath and then let it out. Wherever his dating nerves came from, they melted away, and every experience with Cas left him feeling more relaxed, until he could hardly remember a time when Cas wasn’t there. 

Even though Cas’ regular gig at the Market was on hiatus for the cold months, they still continued to get together on Saturdays, usually for lunch, often at the Market but sometimes venturing into the U district, Cas’ territory. Gabe joined them a couple of times - the first time was just a few weeks after his mugging. He spent as much time complaining about the inconvenience of trying to eat with one arm in a cast as he did actually eating. He teased Dean as much as ever, but for some reason with much less edge to it. Gabe turned out to be a much warmer, cheerier guy than Dean had thought, and fiercely loyal to Cas. That went a long way toward winning Dean over. 

The weekend before Halloween Bobby threw his traditional Last Grill Party of the Year. It was usually too cold and wet to enjoy being outside, but whatever the weather, Bobby always bundled up and manned the grill while Ellen directed traffic and assigned tasks inside like a drill sergeant. 

As usual, Dean’s invitation came via Bobby sticking his head in Dean’s office in the middle of the workday on Thursday. 

“Hey kid, don’t forget the Last Grill Party this Sunday. Ellen says at least two pies.” 

Dean frowned. “This weekend?” 

“Yes, idjit, the weekend before Halloween just like always. You’re not such a big deal you need a personal assistant to remind you of things, are you?” 

“Nah, I’m just giving you a hard time. I’ll bring three different ones, how’s that?” 

“Perfect.” Bobby beamed at him. “Any chance of a lemon pie this time?” 

“What? Lemon? Are you kidding me?” Dean gaped up at Bobby, who rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, princess, lemon pie. I’m pretty sure you can handle it. I know you’re gonna bring apple and pecan, some things never change. I got a hankerin’ to try somethin’ different, that’s all.” 

“Wow. That’s what I call different. Yeah, sure, lemon pie’s easy. Want me there about noon or so to help get set up?” 

“Yep, that’d be great. See you then.” Bobby ducked down the hallway, and then backtracked. “Oh, and hey, Ellen says it’s about time you bring that young man of yours around so she can meet him. See ya.” 

Bobby was off down the hall again, leaving Dean gulping in near-panic. He fumbled for his phone and checked the time: shortly after one, Cas should be back in his office after classes. Dean hit dial. 

_“Hello?”_

“Hey, it’s me. How’s it going?” 

_“Wonderful, excellent class this morning. Is everything all right, Dean? You don’t usually call in the middle of the day.”_

“Oh yeah, it’s fine, everything’s fine, I just, uh…” Dean trailed off, and he could almost hear the frown in Cas’ answering voice. 

_“Are you sure? You sound...odd.”_

Dean sighed. “Yeah, all right, you’re right. Um… It’s just that there’s this grill party thing on Sunday, it’s at Bobby and Ellen’s place, he does it every year. The last grill party of the year, I mean, right before Halloween, crazy, right? It’s cold and damp, but we still have fun. Anyway…” He abruptly ran out of steam, and gulped in a couple of breaths, wiping his damp palms on his jeans. 

_“I see. That sounds like a good tradition.”_ Cas’ voice was quiet, uncertain. Dean sighed. 

“Yeah, it’s always a blast. And I was, y’know, I was wondering, hoping, really, um…” Dean ground his teeth, pulling at his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. 

_“Dean, are you trying to ask me to go to your family’s party with you?”_

Dean blew out a breath. “Yes, yes, sorry, I’m, ah… Yes, Cas. I’d like you to come with me.” 

_“Are you sure? You sounded a little - I don’t know, awkward, I suppose.”_ Cas’s voice was hesitant, and Dean suddenly felt like an idiot. 

“Yes, I mean, no, not awkward. Well, maybe a little awkward.” He took a deep breath and tried again. “Listen, it’s not you, it’s me. I’m a little on edge about, um…” 

_“About introducing me to your family? That’s not a problem, is it?”_

“No! Hell no, Cas, it’s not… I’m out to my family, for god’s sake. It’s just that…” He trailed off again, and this time Cas didn’t try to help him. 

“Cas, I’ve introduced boyfriends to my family before, no big deal. This is different, this is - it’s… Cas, this is important to me, you’re important. I just - I want them to like you as much as I do.”’ 

He could hear a relieved sigh, and then Cas’ voice, all the warmth back in it. _“I’d like very much to come, Dean. And although it’s probably too late for etiquette lessons, I’m told I can be quite charming when I put my mind to it.”_ He was chuckling, and Dean let out a snort. 

“Yeah, yeah, take your best shot, smartass. Here I am a bundle of nerves, and you’re making fun of me.” 

_“Oh dear, I’m sorry. Perhaps I can come up with a couple of ideas for relieving that tension.”_ Cas’ voice dropped into the lower registers, and Dean gulped, suddenly uncomfortably warm. 

“Uh, yeah, maybe we can talk about that when I’m _not_ sitting in my office trying to be professional.” Dean grinned at Cas’ laugh. 

_“Let’s do that. What should I bring?”_

“There’ll be so much food, don’t worry about it. Just your smiling face. Oh, I’ll be a pie-making fool on Saturday, maybe you can come over and help me?” 

_“That sounds wonderful. I’ll bring some lunch and then we can get to work.”_

“Perfect. See you then. And Cas?” 

_“Yes, Dean?”_

“Thanks for, um - thanks.” 

_“Of course. I’m looking forward to the weekend.”_

“Yeah, me too.” Long pause, and then Dean grunted, rubbing his face with his free hand, trying to ignore his blush. “Okay, we should probably hang up before we really embarrass ourselves. Later, Cas.” 

_“Good-by, Dean.”_ Cas was chuckling again, and Dean grinned as he hung up. 

 

Sunday dawned breezy and damp, wisps of gray flying across the sky. Rain showers rolled across the water and up into the city; by eleven or so the streets were shiny with rain. 

Cas was wiping his feet on the mat when Dean opened the door. 

“Hey.” 

“Good morning, Dean.” Cas shook his head, drops of water flying, and Dean grinned and wiped at his face. 

“Little wet outside?” 

Cas smiled. “Just a little. It’s actually not too cold. Bobby and Ellen won’t call off the party, will they?” 

“Oh hell no. There’d have to be a lightning strike in the yard before they’d do that. There’s plenty of cover for the grill and the tables. Or we’ll eat inside if it’s too gross outside. Never fear, there will be food and drink no matter what.” 

“Oh good.” Cas followed Dean into the kitchen and stopped to admire the pies sitting on the counter. “These are beautiful. It’s almost a shame to cut into them.” 

“Heh.” Dean pulled out plastic pie carriers and started loading them up. “These beauties will not survive the afternoon, I promise you that. What we don’t eat Bobby’ll keep for himself.” 

Cas laughed, and picked up two of the three pies. “Are we ready?” 

“Yep. No time like the present.” Dean shouldered into his jacket and took a deep breath. Cas was watching him carefully. 

“Dean, are you sure about this? I’m looking forward to meeting the rest of your family, but I can wait if this is upsetting for you.” 

Dean scowled, mostly at himself. The last thing he wanted was for Cas to feel awkward. “No, I’m fine, really. This is - I dunno, it’s important to me, and I want it to go well, and for them to like you, and you to like them too. A little nervous, that’s all.” He smiled at Cas, who returned the smile after a pause. 

“I know I will, Dean, don’t worry. They’re your family, after all. How bad could they be?” He winked, and Dean huffed out a laugh, relaxing a little. 

“Well, we’re kind of a three-ring circus, but these are my favorite people in the world. It’ll be a blast, come on, let’s go.” Dean held the front door open and gestured for Cas to go out ahead of him. 

 

At Bobby’s Dean pulled into the driveway behind Ellen’s Jeep. He looked over at Cas, who was peering out the window at the house, Ellen’s front garden, now cleared out and waiting for winter. Cas eyed the deer antlers mounted at the peak of the garage door, a little frown appearing between his eyes. Dean watched him fondly, aware of a warmth in his chest. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to bring Cas into the fold, make him part of the motley crew that was his family. Dean reached across to give Cas’ shoulder a gentle shake. 

“Ready to jump into the deep end?” 

Cas smiled, eyes warm. “Absolutely. Let’s do this.” 

 

“Sam, who’s that at the door? Dean, are you finally here? Lord, boy, you’ll be late to your own funeral, I swear to god.” Ellen’s voice carried loud and clear from the kitchen when Sam opened the front door. 

“Hey, guys, come on in. I’m really glad you’re here, Ellen’s been fussing for the last half hour.” 

“We’re not late, are we?” Dean handed Sam the pie he was carrying and shrugged off his coat, then turned to take Cas’ pies so he could do the same. 

“Nah, she’s just impatient. Bobby told her you were bringing a _friend._ ” Sam winked at Cas and held out his hand. “Hey, you must be Cas. I’m Dean’s brother Sam.” 

Cas smiled warmly and shook Sam’s hand. “Hello, Sam. I recognized you from your picture. Good to meet you finally.”

“You too. And this,” Sam gestured at the pretty blonde woman coming up to him, “is my wife Jess. Jess, this is Cas.” 

“Oooh!” Jess grinned and took Cas’ hand in both of hers. “Are you the boyfriend?” 

“Oh my god.” Dean covered his eyes with one hand for a moment. “Sorry, Cas. Jeez, Jess, I just got here, couldn’t you save the ritual humiliation for later?” 

“No.” Jess twinkled at him. “What a silly question. Cas, come with me, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the clan.” She looped one arm through his and led him off toward the kitchen. As she pushed the swinging door open she called out to Ellen, “I got him, Ellen, here he is!” Cas looked back over his shoulder, a faintly worried expression on his face, just as they disappeared into the kitchen. 

“Poor Cas.” Sam was laughing as he clapped Dean on the shoulder. “I hope he survives.” 

“Y’know, I’m rethinking this whole meet-the-family thing. Maybe I should have done this one person at a time, instead of throwing him in the deep end like this.” Dean chewed nervously on his lower lip. 

Sam grinned. “Nah, better to just rip the bandage off. He seems pretty sturdy, he’ll be all right. Let’s go find a beer.” Dean sighed and followed Sam out the side door to the deck. 

 

The next few hours were noisy and chaotic, full of food and drink and laughter. The front doorbell rang every few minutes for awhile, until the full complement of adopted Winchesters had arrived, filling the house and spilling out onto the covered deck. Bobby presided at the grill, allowing only an occasional assist from Dean. Every time Dean looked up, someone else had dragged Cas off for another round of twenty questions. Dean made an effort to check in, or at least make eye contact, but Cas waved him off, smiling cheerfully. He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. 

Around nine o’clock, Dean found Cas in Ellen’s little office off the kitchen, deep in conversation with Ellen and Jess. The three of them stopped talking abruptly when Dean came in, their heads turning toward him with identical expressions on their faces: as though they were discussing what to get Dean for his birthday or something. Dean stopped in the doorway, his eyes jumping from one to the other warily. 

“Oookay, that’s not suspicious at all. What are you two telling him?” 

Ellen smirked and rested one hand on Cas’ arm. “Never you mind, young man. MYOB.” 

Jess grinned up at him. “Not to worry, bro-in-law. Your secrets are safe with us.” 

Cas smiled up at him, eyes twinkling. “I’m learning all kinds of amazing things, Dean. I’m so glad you brought me here.” 

Dean humphed. “Yeah, well, Cas, just remember, it’s all hearsay, it won’t stand up in court.” Everyone laughed, and Cas stood up. 

“We should probably go, it must be getting late. I have students first thing in the morning, unfortunately.” 

Dean nodded, and moved into the room to hug Ellen. “Yep, it’s that time. Ellen, thanks, epic as always.” 

“You bet, honey. Thanks for the pies. I’ll get those pie plates back to you in a few days, when Bobby’s done with the leftovers.” Ellen squeezed him and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for bringing your fella around. He’s a keeper.” She leaned back and gave him a pointed look, and Dean laughed and nodded. 

“Yes ma’am, I agree.” Ellen patted his cheek, and then turned to Cas. 

“Cas, it’s great to meet you. I hope we’ll see a lot of you from now on, now that Dean’s decided to share you with us.” She glared at Dean again, and Cas laughed and took her hand. 

“I’ll make sure that happens. I’ve had a wonderful time. Thank you so much for making me feel so welcome.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, and for a second Dean thought he was seeing things: Ellen appeared to be _blushing_. 

Cas turned to hug Jess. “Jess, it was lovely meeting you. Thanks for all the tips.” He winked at her giggle. 

“Anytime, Cas. See you soon, I hope.” 

Dean pouted. “They don’t make this much fuss over me, Cas. I think I’m jealous.” 

Cas grinned at him and took his arm. “No need. After all, I’m leaving with you.” He arched an eyebrow, and Dean almost tripped over his feet, blushing and flustered. He could hear Ellen and Jess laughing as he and Cas headed out the door.


	7. Chapter 7

The glow from the party had Dean floating through the next few days, a dreamy look on his face. Ordinarily Jo would be teasing him unmercifully, but after her first attempt got nothing but a shy smile in return, she backed off and contented herself with regular reports to Jess and Ellen about exactly how dopey Dean was behaving. 

Dean’s phone jerked him out of his reverie, buzzing impatiently from its usual place teetering precariously on the edge of his desk. He gave it a quick glance: Cas. 

“Hey you.” 

_“Hello, Dean. How’s your day going?”_

“Pretty good, staying busy so it’s going by fast. We still on for dinner?” 

_“Yes, of course. I have something to ask you and I thought I’d do it now rather than wait if that’s all right.”_

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?” 

Cas took a deep breath. _“Well, and please say no if you’d rather not, I won’t mind, but I wondered if you’d like to come to the symphony this weekend. I get complimentary tickets quite often, and I can get one in the orchestra section. That’s right in the center of the floor section, it’s an excellent seat. What do you think?”_

“Wow. That’s - I’d love to, Cas. Thank you, that would be great. Is it Saturday night?” 

_“Yes, at eight pm. If you’d like to come a little earlier, shortly after seven, I can give you a quick tour backstage if you think you’d enjoy that.”_

“Yeah, sure, absolutely. I’ve been wanting to see where you work.” Cas chuckled softly, and Dean found himself leaning his head into the phone. 

_“All right, good. I’m very glad you’ll be there. I’ll bring you your ticket tonight, how’s that?”_

“Perfect. See you about seven?” 

_“See you then.”_ Cas clicked off. Dean sat smiling for a few minutes, phone in hand, and then went back to work, whistling under his breath and wondering what one wore to a symphony concert. 

 

 

Wednesday was always Cas' light day - the first quarter he taught at the U, Wednesday was the day he had no classes, just a couple of students, office hours. That first year, eager and anxious to impress, he’d gone in early anyway, usually in his office before anyone in the department arrived. Now, with a few years under his belt and a more relaxed attitude, he kept the morning for himself, which had become breakfast with his sister Anna nearly every week. Cas climbed the front steps and shook out his umbrella, leaving it leaned up against the settee on the porch. 

Anna lived in a small house a few blocks north of the campus, in a neighborhood with several fraternity and sorority houses, small apartment complexes, rooming houses and the occasional cottage, like hers. Set back from the street, it had a warm, welcoming feel to it, surrounded by a low fence, simple landscaping in the front, a deep front porch with a couple of chairs and a settee among the potted plants. A ginger cat blinked sleepily up at him from one of the chairs, watching disapprovingly as Cas pushed the front door open. 

“Good morning! Anybody awake in here?” 

Anna appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Of course I’m awake. I’ll bet I’ve been up longer than you.” She made a face at him and reached out to tug his coat off his shoulders. 

“No doubt.” He smiled back and and stepped into the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. “That smells wonderful.” 

“It _is_ wonderful, my patented one-of-a-kind mega omelet. With potatoes, just for you.” She winked. 

“You’re too good to me.” 

Anna laughed and pulled a warm casserole dish out of the oven. “I’ll dish this up, would you set the table for me?” 

“Of course.” They moved around each other, seamless and efficient. In a few minutes the table was set, food steaming in the middle, teacups filled. 

For several minutes the only sounds were forks clinking on plates, the occasional slurp of tea, and contented noises. Anna rested her elbows on the table, sipping her tea and watching Cas. 

“So, you were a little later than usual this morning.” 

Cas nearly fumbled his cup, and fussed with his napkin to cover up. “I was?” 

Anna smirked. “Don’t even try that innocent face with me, buster. Did you go out?” 

Cas’ face heated up, and he frowned in an attempt to cover for it. “At what point did I cede my privacy to you? I don’t appreciate being - _interrogated_ while I’m attempting to digest this wonderful meal.” He shoved another bite in and chewed theatrically. 

Anna laughed out loud. “Now you really have to tell me. You’re being so secretive I know something must have happened. I need details! C’mon, give.” She grinned so delightedly at him that his frown gave way to a rueful smile. 

“All right, if you must know - yes. I went out a date. A real, actual date with a human being.” 

“Ooooh!” Anna dropped her fork onto her plate and leaned forward eagerly. “What’s his name? Where did you meet him? What’s he like? Is he completely gorgeous?” 

By the time she was finished Cas was laughing. “I had no idea my personal life was of such interest to you, Annie. His name’s Dean, I met him at the Market. He’s quite obnoxious, to an extent that his excellent looks didn’t compensate.” 

“Didn’t? As in, past tense?” Anna raised an eyebrow. 

“First impressions are not always correct. The truth is…” Cas trailed off, staring intently at his plate, shifting uncomfortably. “The truth is, the first time he approached me he made a stupid crack about the cello being a boring instrument, and I was rather - short with him.” 

“You mean you bit his head off and left him bleeding.” Anna shook her head at him, and Cas’ eyes dropped back to the plate. 

“Y-yes, of course I did.” He sighed and looked up at her sadly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to - stop doing that.” 

“I know.” Anna reached across the table and covered his hand with one of hers. “I get it, Cas. It took me a long time to stop listening to that voice in my head.” She patted his hand before pulling back and taking a sip of her tea. Her eyes over the rim of her cup were sad. 

“I don’t think I ever remember seeing you lose your temper with anyone.” Cas looked surprised. “I always wished you would.” 

“It was different for me, I think. I was always afraid to speak up at home, because… well, you remember.” She made a face. “Later, whenever I felt judged or somebody said something that made me feel badly about myself, I just… shut my mouth and crept off like a kicked puppy.” 

Cas nodded slowly. “Now that I remember. But you don’t - you’re not like that any more.” 

“Nope.” Anna smiled cheerily. “Took years of therapy, but I speak up for myself now. And I manage not to kill anyone while I’m doing it!” She grinned, and Cas chuckled. 

“But you must have changed too. I mean, you did go out with this cello-insulter, right?” Anna took another sip from her cup and looked at him questioningly.

“Right. I have, several times. Our first time out was - well, it was the night Gabe was mugged, so that date ended a bit prematurely. It was actually lovely, except for the mugging part. We had just arrived at Dean’s apartment when you called, and I was quite upset, it really threw me off-balance. And Dean was wonderful, drove me to the hospital and brought me something to snack on and a cup of tea, and stayed there with me until they took Gabe up to his room for the night. He even insisted that I stay at his place - it’s much closer to the hospital, he slept in his guest room so I could have the master suite.” 

“My my.” Instead of teasing him, as he’d expected, Anna was smiling warmly and gazing at him. “He sounds pretty wonderful.” 

“He is. I knew when we first started getting to know each other that I’d been wrong about his character, but that night I really got a good look at him in a crisis, you know? He was so supportive, and so kind to me.” 

“It sounds like it. So, you’ve been out with him since then, right?” 

“Yes, a few times, he even came to the symphony last weekend. Our most recent outing was last night, which I suppose is why I was late this morning. We went out to dinner, and we had a lovely meal and a wonderful conversation, and we took a long walk down by the waterfront. It was raining a little when we first left the restaurant - you know how it’s sometimes showery over the water, and the sun lights it up like the embers of a fire? What?” 

Anna’s giggle burst out from behind her fingers. “My goodness, how poetic! I’m surprised there wasn’t a choir of angels.” 

“Oh shut up. The point is, I have been going out with Dean, several times. Are you satisfied?” 

“Yes, of course. It sounds like you’re enjoying yourself.” Anna forked up her last bite and swallowed it down. Wiping her hands on her napkin, she looked over at him thoughtfully. “So, what made you say yes finally?” 

“Hmm. I think…” Cas’s voice trailed off, and he tilted his head, considering. “He was, ah, very persistent, but he wasn’t aggressive or unpleasant. He always had something complimentary to say about the music, and he seemed very sincere about that. And the last time when he approached me, it was almost as if he’d, I don’t know, he’d given up trying to impress me and just wanted to thank me for the music. He even apologized, after a fashion. And there was something about him. I - “ He stopped, and looks up at his sister, startled. “Do you know, I think I had a hunch, an impulse, something like that, and actually acted on it?” 

“How unlike you.” Anna winked at him. 

Cas refused to be annoyed, and smiled back at her. “I know, I was surprised too. I even managed to snark at him a little.” 

“A little? Hard to believe.” Anna smirked at him, and Cas couldn’t help laughing out loud. Anna’s face softened; she watched his face, managing to smile and look puzzled at the same time. 

“Well, based on available evidence I’d say your instinct was correct. There does seem to be something interesting about this fellow. I haven’t seen you laugh this much in - I don’t remember _ever_ seeing you laugh this much.” Her expression was wistful. 

Cas humphed and squirmed a bit. “Well, ah, I suppose not. We did have a very good time. It turns out that he’s a musician as well. Rock music mostly, and quite an accomplished guitar player. We, ah, we did a little set at the Market.” 

Anna’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “A set? You mean, together?” 

“Yes, of course that’s what I mean. Why is that such a surprise? I perform with people all the time.” 

“Well, yes, but this is different. Somebody you’re dating? And you actually deign to allow them to share the stage without being your student, or a, a _professional?_ ” 

Cas made a face at her. “Yes, yes, all right, this is different. He’s a very special person. It’s not just the music.” 

Anna smirked and sipped her coffee, looking very smug. “So, when do I get to meet him?” 

Cas sighed. “How about we find a time when you can come over for dinner and I’ll invite Dean too? Maybe we’ll even play for you.” 

Anna squealed excitedly, set her cup down and leaned over to hug him. “I would _love_ that! You’d really let me hear you play? When? Oh please say this weekend, I can’t wait!” She was all but bouncing in her chair, and Cas looked at her thoughtfully. 

“Have I really been that secretive about my playing? I’m sorry, Anna, I didn’t realize you’d even -” 

“Want to hear you? Of course I want to! I’ve always loved your playing, Cas, you know that.” Anna’s eyes were sad again as she looks into his eyes. “I’m the one who should be sorry. You must have grown up thinking nobody wanted to hear you. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” She reached out to take his hand. 

“You were a kid, too. It wasn’t your job to make sure I got the attention I needed.” 

Anna made an impatient noise. “Well, it is now. That’s settled, this weekend for sure. Tell this _Dean_ person he’d better be there too.” She nodded firmly, and Cas raised his hands in surrender. 

“I never could say no to you. Saturday it is.” They grinned happily at each other as they got up to clear away the breakfast things.


	8. Chapter 8

Going to the symphony concert was a revelation for Dean. He knew before he got there the music itself was over his head; he knew next to nothing about classical music, and decided not to worry about that, but to make an effort to just listen and enjoy it, out of respect for Cas. But seeing him perform was an unexpected thrill. It was different from seeing him play at the Market; here, with his musical colleagues, he exuded power, passion, connecting with the music in a way Dean had never seen from him. He was positively fierce, and Dean felt something he could only describe as being swept off his feet from across the room. 

When Cas called to invite him to dinner with Anna, it suddenly felt like the grill party all over again: important, even critical, something he wanted to get absolutely right. He was almost too nervous to strike up a conversation, but Anna, who seemed to have more of a mischievous streak than her brother, started teasing him immediately, but so gently and kindly that he relaxed and enjoyed himself. When he finally had to leave, Cas walked him out to the car, holding his hand and bumping shoulders companionably. Dean turned to say good night, and was stopped by Cas’ face, not quite smiling, looking back at him so warmly that before Dean realized he was moving, he’d leaned forward and kissed Cas, pressing his mouth against Cas’ and feeling like he was falling off a cliff. Judging by the startled look on Cas’ face, Cas was in the same condition. 

And a few days before Thanksgiving, when they were standing nose to nose in the grocery store having a fiercely whispered argument over the relative merits of sweet-potato-with-marshmallows casserole versus wild rice with chopped vegetables, Dean suddenly stopped, frozen, unable to speak. Cas was giving him the death glare; he looked just like he did the day Dean met him and so badly misread him, and Dean had a moment of clarity. _I love you. Jesus, I really do_. He could feel his heart thumping; Cas was giving him that _what is your problem?_ look, and Dean laughed helplessly, leaning in for a clumsy hug. And wild rice it was. 

From then on, everything looked different. Happy, definitely; more comfortable, in some ways. But Dean was suddenly terrified that he was boring Cas somehow; he found himself spending a lot of mental energy worrying about making each date even more enthralling and unusual than the last. Sam got tired of trying to talk him down, and began refusing his calls. Jess was more agreeable, Charlie too; they both assured him he was doing fine, and to calm down before he had a heart attack. Despite his attempts to rein himself in, there were several somewhat awkward conversations with Cas about things he liked to do, Dean asking a thousand questions until Cas, exasperated, once hung up on him in the middle of their late-night phone call. The next day Dean called the symphony office and managed to get through to Anna. He proceeded pump her for information until she started laughing at him. On the days Cas and Dean were actually planning to get together, he was so frazzled he could hardly concentrate on anything. 

The weather grew steadily cooler and damper, and the usual Market music performers mostly tapered off. So for the next several weeks they met up at places other than the Market. And at Cas’ suggestion, they decided to start getting together more often during the week, instead of just the weekend. 

Which didn’t happen for awhile. Dean, having just started to relax into the idea that this wonderful, gorgeous professor actually wanted to see more of him, wound himself up again over the idea of seeing each other for lunch during the work day. _Cas is too busy; he has more important things to do; he’d be setting aside his work and everything just to see me for a quick meal_ \- Dean’s mind whirled around and around these issues, rendering him unable to actually do anything about it. The logjam finally broke in the middle of their conversation one evening, when Cas, apparently recognizing the problem, mentioned the next day was a light one for him, and could they go grab some lunch around one? Maybe Dean could come pick him up at his university office? Dean started nodding vigorously, briefly forgetting they were on the phone and Cas couldn’t see him, and sputtered out an eager _yes, yes, I’ll be there!_ He blushed when Cas started laughing, and hung up with Cas' fond _good night, Dean_ echoing in his ears. 

The next day Dean left his office an hour or so ahead of time, and arrived so early at the School of Music he decided to stroll around outside rather than hang around where the receptionist could mock him. It was a beautiful day, partly sunny after a week of steady rain; a light breeze rustled the branches of the stately old maples in the quad, resulting in a constant, gentle fall of leaves, orange-red-gold as they drifted to the grass. He spent a few minutes looking up at the upper windows of the old brick building, trying to figure out which one was Cas’ office; a problem that was solved when one of the windows opened with a reluctant scraping sound and the man himself appeared, head and shoulders leaning out into the sunshine. Dean could see his smile from all this distance. 

“Hey.” 

“Hello, Dean. I can’t help noticing that you look like Romeo gazing longingly up at fair Juliet’s balcony right now.” 

Dean snorted. “Should I be speaking poetry? I warn you, I didn’t pay attention in English class. Like, at all.” 

“Hmm. I’m imagining you playing Romeo, only you’d probably throw stones at Juliet’s window.” Cas was chuckling. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I bet Romeo would have too. Shame they didn’t have glass windows back then, it would have been a whole different play.” 

“I’ll be right down.” Cas was shaking his head, his laughter trailing behind him as he disappeared back into his office and closed the window. Unable to stand still, Dean occupied himself walking up and down the sidewalk, glancing over at the building entrance occasionally and grinning foolishly. Finally Cas appeared, coat on, giving an awkward, endearing little wave as he came into sight, as though he hadn’t just been hanging out the window giving Dean a bad time. Dean wanted to kiss the crap out of him, or maybe arm wrestle him instead of having lunch. 

“Dean? Where are you parked? Hello?” Cas was standing in front of him, waving a hand in front of Dean’s face and looking like he was about to burst out laughing. Again. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry, car’s over there someplace. I think.” Dean looked around, coming back down to earth and taking a deep breath, trying to keep a blush from spreading across his face. “Yeah, over this way. And shut up.” 

Cas took pity on him, squeezed his arm as he fell into step. “May I ask why you’re nervous? We already did the first date thing.” 

Dean sighed. “Not nervous exactly, just - I dunno, trying to keep my head. Meeting my boyfriend for lunch, y’know, that’s -” He stopped talking abruptly, awkwardness increasing exponentially as he heard what he’d said. It was a distinct relief to get in the car. 

The only conversation for several minutes consisted of Cas giving Dean directions to a little Mediterranean restaurant on the Ave, and tips on free parking nearby. Finally they were inside and seated at a small table in the corner. Cas was a regular, judging by the greeting he received from the owner, and when he asked Dean if he minded if Cas ordered for both of them, Dean nodded wordlessly. There was a minute of silence after the owner collected the menus and left them with a couple of glasses of ice water. Dean sighed and spoke first, feeling self-conscious. 

“Uh, sorry I’m such a dweeb.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “I’m just - I feel like I’m sixteen again, wanting to impress my hot date and falling over my feet instead.” Dean raised his eyes to meet Cas’, and watched as a warm smile spread across Cas’ face. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s very endearing.” Dean made a face, and Cas chuckled. “Actually, I was thinking it’s been awhile since anybody reacted to me that way. I’ve missed that.” His smile faded a little, and Cas looked down at his hands, clasped on the table in front of him. Impulsively, Dean reached across and rested a hand on Cas’. 

“Well, then, I should probably be a social idiot more often.” Cas slanted a half-smile at him, and Dean winked. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Yes, just fine. And don’t worry, you’re not pushing me anywhere I don’t want to go.” Cas’ smile appeared again, soft and sweet and then moving into something else. His eyes, always intense, bored into Dean’s, holding his gaze. Dean took a deep breath, feeling warmth curl in his belly. He huffed out a laugh. 

“Sure hope lunch gets here soon, otherwise I can’t be responsible for my behavior.” Dean’s voice only shook a little, and Cas nodded and squeezed Dean’s hand. 

“I concur. Oh, here it comes. That looks delicious, thank you so much.” Cas’ smile slid back into its nice-pleasant mode while the waiter served them; he glanced over at Dean with that same smile, but there was a different light in his eyes. Dean let out a long breath and turned to his food, silently instructing his erection to subside so he could eat, please. 

The only drawback to getting together for lunch made itself known quickly: Cas shifted uncomfortably and announced that he would have to get back shortly for his afternoon students. Dean sighed. 

“Yeah, I should get moving too. Work is sure inconvenient sometimes.” 

Cas chuckled. “It is indeed. I think if I knew I could see you this evening the afternoon would be easier to bear.” 

Dean looked up, startled. Cas sat looking at him calmly and seriously, waiting. Dean cleared his throat a couple of times. 

“Uh - yeah, that’d be great. Hey, it’s my turn to cook, isn’t it? How about if I make dinner? You’re okay with meat, right?” 

Cas nodded, his eyes steady on Dean’s. “Yes, of course. That would be great.” 

“Okay, good.” Dean shuffled his feet, crumpled his napkin and then smoothed it out flat again. “Okay, then. I better get moving, get something done this afternoon so I can hit the grocery store before I go home. About seven?” 

“Yes, seven is perfect.” Cas smiled warmly. “We should go.” 

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Dean slid out of the booth and followed Cas out the door. Anticipation curled warmly in his chest. 

 

The afternoon stretched out in front of Dean like an empty desert, their dinner date a mirage in the distance. Dean gave up halfway through it, almost ran back to his apartment building to pick up his car, and headed for the grocery store. He’d decided to make something simple, to lessen the chances of screwing it up, but he also wanted it to be special. He stood fretting in the produce section for several minutes, until he finally shook his head sharply and started gathering up vegetables for a beef stir fry. 

It was still early when Dean got back to the apartment. He was keyed up enough that he opted for a short but vigorous visit to the gym in the building’s basement, pushing himself on the stationary cycle until sweat was dripping off his forehead and onto the handlebars. Hop in the shower, and then into the kitchen to start prep work. 

The rice was half-done and the vegetables ready to go in the frying pan when the doorbell sounded. Dean’s heart jumped; he took a second to lean on his hands on the edge of the counter, breathe deeply and give himself a pep talk: _relax, this is gonna be a nice evening, calm the fuck down!_ He laughed at himself, and opened the door. Cas was standing there, bottle of wine in hand and a sly smile on his face. 

“Hey you.” 

“Good evening.” There was a pause, and Cas raised an eyebrow. “May I come in?” 

“Uh, yeah, come on in, sorry. I’m a little frazzled, I guess.” 

“Nervous?” Cas smirked as he moved past Dean into the apartment.

“No. Yeah. A little, maybe.” Dean turned to follow Cas - and ran smack into him. Cas was standing very close, traces of his smile lingering, his eyes gazing straight into Dean’s. Flustered, Dean opened his mouth to speak, and was interrupted by Cas’ mouth covering his carefully: a short but intense kiss. Dean took a shaky breath in as Cas broke contact and stepped back. 

“Feeling better?” 

“That’s one way to put it. C’mon, come help me finish getting dinner on while I can still think coherently.” Dean bumped Cas’ shoulder and moved them both down the hall. “It’s almost ready, I just have to saute the veggies. You feel like setting the table? That’ll move things along quicker.” 

“Mmm.” Cas gave him a half-smile. “I’m all for that.” 

 

 

Dean took the last bite of rice-and-vegetables off his fork and sighed as he chewed. “Man, I was hungry. Did you get enough?” 

“Yes, plenty. It was delicious, Dean, thank you.” Cas set his fork across his plate, his eyes on Dean’s face. 

“You’re welcome. Glad you liked it.” Dean felt himself squirming a little, aware of Cas’ intense gaze and feeling his face heat up. “I should, uh…” 

“Let me clear up.” Cas rose and started stacking dishes, a private smile on his face, his elegant hands gathering silverware and napkins. 

Dea sat watching him, feeling the insistent thump of his heart. He pushed himself to his feet. “Tell you what, let’s just put everything in the sink. I’ll clean up later.” 

“Later?” Cas turned slightly, looking back at him from the kitchen door. 

Dean just looked at him for a long moment, broad, muscular shoulder, strong hands, dark hair already rumpled, and mostly his face, that half-smile, eyes looking straight back at him, no hesitation, no uncertainty at all. Ready to meet him in the middle. When Dean spoke, his voice was husky. 

“Yeah. Later.” He took the dishes out of Cas’ hands, slipping past him to deposit the load in the sink and wipe his hands on the dishcloth. When he turned around again, Cas was right there, right in Dean’s space, so close the only place for Dean’s hands to go was Cas’ waist. He could feel muscles, tense and shifting as Cas leaned into him; Cas’ chest up against his, deep steady breaths. Dean was suddenly aware he hadn’t taken a full breath for awhile, and sucked in a gulp of air. 

“Cas, I - you -” 

“You talk too much.” Cas was just close enough that Dean could feel Cas’ breath, feather-light on Dean’s mouth, and then closed the distance. 

Soft. Cas’ lips were so soft, Dean could feel his breath skating lightly across Dean’s cheek, the pressure on Dean’s mouth was careful, gentle. In a corner of his awareness, Dean realized he couldn’t feel feel his feet on the floor, couldn’t hear street noises, or anything else but right here. Cas’ mouth moved, shifted, pressed a little harder, searching, his tongue slipping into Dean’s mouth, exploring, trailing slowly against Dean’s tongue, moving deeper. Cas’ hands tightened on Dean’s arms, pulling him in, bodies pressed together from chest to knees. Cas tilted his head, crushing their mouths together; Dean felt a hand at the back of his head, clutching at his neck. He could feel Cas’ hand trembling slightly, and for some reason that was what hit the accelerator, shoved him from floating dreamily along to heat blooming in his belly, breath sucking in through his nose, his heart wild in his chest. He heard himself groan into Cas’ mouth, unable to stop himself, his hands slid up under Cas’ shirt, flat against the warm, soft skin of his back. He moaned again, feeling Cas’ hands slide down to Dean’s waist, tugging at the top button of his jeans. Cas’ long fingers slipped inside, pushing past the waistband of his briefs, skating lightly over his erection. Dean gasped, head snapped back, belly muscles jumping. He made a half-strangled sound in his throat, and Cas growled, fisting Dean’s shirt and kissing him again, hard, sloppy, biting. They pulled apart, flushed and panting. 

“Bedroom.” Cas’ voice was still down in the lower range, and Dean pressed their foreheads together, nodding jerkily. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s right down, it’s, um -” 

Cas snorted. “I know where it is.” He herded Dean down the hall, while a part of Dean’s brain that was still coherent took a moment to feel thankful that it was only a few steps to the bedroom door. It still seemed to take a long time, stumbling, bumping into each other, fumbling at clothing, kissing and mouthing at each other, tugging on their clothes, unbuttoning, shoes thumping to the floor, finally running into the bed hard enough to tip them over. Dean opened his eyes, grinning, to see Cas smiling back down at him. Dean pushed forward, pressing his face into Cas’ shoulder and breathing him in. They rocked together. 

From there it felt like sliding down a long slope, faster and faster, farther away from anything but this warm place, their hands on each other, sensation winding tighter and tighter until everything stopped, like a deep breath held in. Don’t stop, don’t ever stop, just be here.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean opened one eye, peering at the window, faint gray light coming in around the edges of the blinds. Early, much too early to be awake, especially after a late night. He smiled and hummed, stretched, luxuriating in the warmth of the bed. He stretched out an arm - and encountered an empty spot. Dean raised his head and blinked blearily. 

“Cas? You didn’t sneak out, did you?” 

The bathroom door opened and Cas poked his head out. He was grinning. “Not at all. Why on earth would I do that?” 

“Oh good. I mean, it’s okay if you wanna go, I mean, you’ve probably got stuff to do…” He trailed off as Cas opened the door fully and came toward the bed, wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of Dean’s sweatpants. 

“Oh. You, um, you’re dressed.” Dean’s heart sank. “Well, uh...just give me a second and I’ll make you some coffee.” Dean rolled to a sitting position and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He started to rise but stopped when Cas, laughing and shaking his head, rested a hand on his shoulder. Dean snapped his gaze up, to see Cas looking down at him fondly.

“I’ll be back in a minute, I’m going out for coffee and muffins. Please try to calm down while I’m gone, and maybe put on some pants.” Winking, Cas leaned down and covered Dean’s half-open mouth with his own. 

Whatever Dean was considering as a response floated away like smoke in a breeze. It was a truly stellar kiss: warm and sweet, gradually more searching, heating up. Cas was putting everything he had into it, and Dean heard himself making an involuntary sound as those long fingers trailed lightly down his throat. He was just gathering a fistful of Cas’ shirt in one hand when Cas carefully broke the kiss. Dean dragged in a gulp of air and blinked up at Cas. 

“Hey. Hey, where you going?” He barely recognized his voice, hoarse and shaky. 

Cas leaned down for another quick peck. “Coffee.” Another. “Muffins.” He shifted back, and Dean found himself unable to keep from chasing his mouth. Cas smirked and poked a finger into Dean’s chest. “Shower. Pants. I’ll be right back.” And he slipped away, winking at Dean as he left the bedroom. Dean could hear the front door open and close softly, and he leaned forward, head down and hands on knees, trying to catch his breath. After a minute he got slowly to his feet and shuffled off toward the bathroom, a soft smile on his face. 

 

Dean was in the kitchen loading their dinner dishes into the dishwasher when the front door opened. Actually, he nearly dropped the dishes in his hands at the loud thump against the door, followed by muttered curses and the rattling sound of the keys. Cas shoved the door open, shutting it behind him a little louder than necessary, and strode into the kitchen. He set the coffee carrier down on the counter with exaggerated care, obviously trying not to spill it in his temper. Dean blinked at him. 

“You okay?” 

“Yes, fine,” Cas bit out, not meeting Dean’s eyes. 

“Oookay. What happened?” 

“Nothing.” Cas ripped open the white pastry bag. “Here, there’s chocolate and blueberry. Which do you prefer?” He pulled a couple of paper towels off the roll to use as napkins, still scowling and refusing to look at Dean. 

“I’d _prefer_ that you tell me what’s going on. You were pretty chipper when you left twenty minutes ago.” Cas glanced sharply at him, and Dean smirked. “You could kiss me like that again if you want. I wouldn’t mind too much, y’know, if it makes you feel better.” 

Cas huffed, and his shoulders dropped. His face softened and he managed a half smile. Dean raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Cas let out a long breath. 

“Let’s sit, could we do that? I’m hungry, maybe coffee and food would help.” 

“Sure.” Dean pulled the two stools out from the breakfast bar. “Come sit. You want anything to go with those?” 

“No, not yet anyway.” Cas slid the coffees and the pastry bag across the counter, and leaned on his hands, head down. Dean patted his back gently. 

“C’mon, buddy, let’s sit down. C’mon, don’t make me drag you.” Dean grinned at Cas’ scowl, and slid onto one of the stools. After a moment Cas joined him, plopping into his seat with a sigh. They spent a few minutes munching and slurping, and then Dean glanced over at Cas’ scowling face. 

“So. What harshed your buzz this morning?” He leaned over and gently bumped shoulders with Cas. 

There was a long silence, during which Cas frowned down at the crumbs on his napkin. Finally he sighed and tilted his head back and forth, eyes closed, stretching his neck. 

“All right. I went to the place on the corner that you like, hoping they’d have those blueberry muffins.” He gave a half-smile at Dean’s hum of appreciation. “There were quite a few people there, early as it is, and I was in line for awhile. I heard the door open, turned to look, and it was a woman wrestling a, a… Um.” He stopped short, looking distressed, and Dean put a hand on his arm. 

“What? What was it, Cas?” 

Again, Cas remained silent for a long moment; to Dean’s consternation, when he finally looked up his eyes were shiny with unshed tears. 

“Ah shit, Cas. What happened, babe?” Dean slid from his stool and moved closer, one hand resting on Cas’ shoulder. “Talk to me, man. What’s upset you?” 

Cas sighed, and leaned down to kiss the back of Dean’s hand. He wiped at his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - obviously I’m upset, I should have just said so. Please sit down, Dean. I do want to tell you about this, it’s just - it’s a difficult thing for me to talk about.” 

Dean sank back onto his seat, eyes never leaving Cas’ face. “Okay. I’m listening, Cas, whenever you’re ready.” 

Cas smiled warmly. “Thank you.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “Okay. There was this woman trying to get into the coffee shop, and struggling with the door and a, a child’s wheelchair, one of those heavy-duty ones with the oversized tires.” Dean nodded wordlessly, and Cas went on. “The child - it was a little boy, there was a blanket covering his legs, and he - he looked -” Cas sighed deeply. “To me he appeared to have a neurological disorder that necessitated the chair.” He broke off to take a gulp of coffee; Dean could see his hands shaking. 

After a moment Dean leaned toward Cas and squeezed his hand. “D’you mind if I ask how you know that?” 

Cas glanced at him, his face full of misery. “I am familiar with that kind of condition because - because my twin brother…” His voice broke, and he turned his face away, swallowing hard. 

Dean’s throat ached with sympathy. “Cas…” 

Cas turned back with an abrupt motion. “So when a couple of teenagers in line started mimicking this child’s involuntary movements and making fun of him, I, ah…” He cleared his throat. “I may have made a bit of a scene.” 

“Uh oh.” Dean smiled tentatively. 

Cas made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snarl. “We may need to start frequenting another coffee shop.” Dean laughed, and Cas managed a lopsided smile. 

“I bet it wasn’t that bad. And besides, it sounds like you were justified.” 

“I didn’t stop to think about that. I just… I could see Jimmy sitting in his chair, watching me doing things he couldn’t. He was such a, a positive little person, so determined to see the good in everything and everybody. But sometimes I could see how sad he was, and seeing this little boy this morning just - brought it all back.” Cas wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. 

Dean sat watching him, his heart in his eyes. He was thinking of Sam, trying to imagine what it would be like to watch his little brother suffer. 

“What happened to Jimmy, Cas?” Dean asked in a hushed voice. 

Cas’ face pinched. “He - he died, he wasn’t even ten years old. Patients with his condition often d-die young.” He wiped at his eyes again, an angry gesture. “We all tried so hard to make his life good and happy, to make sure he was comfortable and had what he needed. He never suffered unkindness, no one was ever cruel to him. I couldn’t stand watching this little boy this morning and his poor mother being treated so badly.” 

Dean stood and wrapped his arms around Cas, hugging him tightly. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m sorry that happened.” He rubbed a hand up and down Cas’ back, feeling Cas lean into him. 

Cas sniffled and relaxed a little. “Thank you, Dean. I’m sorry I was late getting back.” 

“Don’t apologize, you dope. It was for a good cause.” 

Cas pulled away, squeezing Dean’s arm. “Yes, well, I may have caused more delay after I finished yelling at the kids by bringing the mother and the little boy into the line ahead of me and buying them their treats.” 

Dean laughed out loud. “Oh boy, I’ll bet everybody else in line appreciated that.” 

“Actually, there was scattered applause and so on. Several people thanked me, which made me feel worse. I hate creating a scene like that.” 

Dean hugged him one last time and sat back down. “Seems to me you did the right thing. You made that mom’s day, for sure.” 

Cas hummed and ate the last bit of his muffin. Dean sat sipping coffee and watching Cas carefully. 

“Can I ask a question?” Cas nodded silently. “Was he born with a, a disease that did that to him?” 

Dean set his cup down and started picking up crumbs from his muffin with a fingertip, until he realized Cas was silent and unmoving. Dean looked up sharply - Cas’s back was stiff and straight, his face still as a stone. 

“Cas?” 

Cas cleared his throat and frowned down at his plate. “I think I’d rather not talk about this any more right now, Dean, if you don’t mind.” His voice was cold, clipped, almost a monotone. Dean stared at him, caught by surprise. 

“Y-yeah, sure, Cas, whatever you want. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -” 

Cas smiled stiffly. “No need to apologize. Thank you for respecting my wishes.” Cas picked up his cup, realized halfway to his mouth that it was empty, and set it back down carefully. “I, uh, I think I’d like to take a shower, if that’s all right.” 

“Of course.” Dean’s mind whirled at the sudden shift in the conversation. “I put a clean towel on the hook next to the shower. There’s shampoo and stuff in there, help yourself to anything you need.” 

Cas gave a short nod and slid off his seat, face turned away from Dean as he left the room. Dean sat staring after him, blinking and wondering what just happened.


	10. Chapter 10

They didn’t see each other for a few days after that - a period of time Dean spent mostly fidgeting and pacing nervously and dredging up all the worst-case scenarios his insecure little brain could produce. Maybe the sex wasn’t good for Cas - well, that couldn’t be, because it was freakin’ _awesome_. Dean was part smug, part blushing for a few minutes until he remembered Cas hadn’t so much as texted since the _freakin’ awesome_ and the incident at the coffee shop, the awkward moment afterward. Then he started worrying again, wondering if he’d been said something wrong, been too pushy or sat too close, assumed too much, mistook Cas’ awkwardness and subsequent silence for discomfort with the story he told Dean, when in fact Cas wanted to break it off and just didn’t know how to bring it up - around and around. 

Finally, after Bobby had to call his name a couple of times during a client meeting, he barged into Dean’s office and slammed the door with sufficient force to rattle the photos on the wall. Dean jumped a foot, and managed to glare at Bobby while he was wiping coffee off his desktop. 

“What the hell is your problem, old man?” 

“I was about t’ask you the same thing! And watch your tone with me, sonny. I’m your boss _and_ your surrogate dad!” 

Dean huffed. “Yeah, yeah. So what’s so important you have to come stomping in here looking like you’re about to cut me a new one?” 

“That’s still an option, don’t test me, boy.” Bobby stood there, hands on hips, scowling like thunder, and Dean wilted. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, Bobby. What’s up?” 

“Well, it’s sure as hell not your attention span. I can’t remember the last time I had to check and make sure you were still awake in a meeting with a client. You’re usually Johnny-on-the-spot, especially with clients. And this ain’t the first time, you’ve been pretty much out of it this whole week. What’s goin’ on?” 

Dean leaned back in his chair and sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I - I’m just - really distracted, Bobby. Sorry, I don’t know -” 

“My guess is you _do_ know, kid.” Bobby’s expression was still scary, but not entirely unsympathetic. “I’ve certainly got my guesses, but it ain’t my place, and that don’t really matter. Just get your shit together, handle your business, and get your head back in the game. Got it?” He stood right where he was, feet planted firmly, showing no signs of leaving until he got a response. Dean sighed again, thinking deep thoughts about the advisability of working for family members. He looked up at Bobby and managed a half-smile. 

“I will, I promise. I really am sorry, Bobby. Do I need to mend fences with the client? I’ll call her if you want.” 

“Nah, I took care of it. My guess is she thinks you’re cute, so she’s willing to let it pass. Just don’t let it happen again.” He smirked, and Dean could feel his face heating up. 

“Ugh. Get out of my office.” Dean made a shooing gesture, and Bobby grunted, turned toward the door. 

“Bobby?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You still think I’m cute, right?” Dean grinned up at him, and Bobby snorted. 

“I never thought you were cute, kid. Get back to work.” Dean saluted, Bobby made a rude gesture and headed down the hall out of sight. 

Dean sat for a minute, thinking furiously, and picked up his phone. _Just this once_ , he decided, _I’ll make the first move_. He scrolled down his contact list and found the entry with a drawing of a cello next to it. He smiled fondly, opened a text window, and began to type. 

**deanw** _hey cas, just checking in, hope you’re okay_

Dean dropped the phone on his desk, got to his feet and moved to the drafting table. He stood there frowning down at the drawing he’d started and trying not to side-eye his phone. Finally he leaned forward and started sketching, slowly at first and then more rapidly as his mind engaged. He was deep into it, frowning in concentration, when he started at the sound of his phone buzzing. 

**cnovak** _Hello Dean. Yes, I’m fine, just criminally busy._  
_I miss you. I was planning to call and see if you’re free_  
_for dinner Friday night?_

Dean smiled, all the tension of the last few days melting away. 

**deanw** _yeah totally, i’d love to see you  
wanna meet somewhere?_

He stood waiting with the phone in his hand, all pretense of doing any work dropped. It was only a minute before it buzzed again. 

**cnovak** _Excellent. I was actually thinking it would be_  
_lovely if you want, and please say so if you’d rather_  
_not, but I would like very much to cook you dinner at_  
_my place. If you’d rather not we can definitely go out_  
_somewhere._

Dean stood stock-still, looking down at the phone and barely breathing. A warm feeling started in his belly somewhere and rose up through his chest and throat until he could feel it in his face. That didn’t sound like a man who wasn’t really interested but couldn’t figure out a way to say it. Home-cooked dinner at Cas’ place? Oh hell yeah. 

**deanw** _oh wow that sounds awesome_  
_hey wait, you do know how to cook right?  
no mac n cheese from the box or anything like that? _

He waited, grinning like an idiot and hoping nobody walked in right that minute. 

**cnovak** _I will have you know that I am an excellent  
cook. My baklava is widely renowned. _

Dean laughed out loud. 

**deanw** _i don’t know what that is but i bet it’s yummy  
what time should I show up?_

**cnovak** _Anytime after 7 is fine.  
Address: 4733 16th Ave NE_

**deanw** _got it  
shd i bring anything_

**cnovak** _One of those odd local beers you like. :)_

**deanw** _ha!! you got it. can’t wait to see you. :)_

**cnovak** _I’ll be glad to see you as well. Until then._

**deanw** _bye cas_

Dean let out a long sigh. He felt about a hundred pounds lighter; he could feel that goofy smile still on his face. He was still smiling when he picked up his pencil and started drawing again. 

 

A few minutes before seven, Dean parked Baby on the street in front of Cas’ house and sat for a minute, looking at the tidy little cottage, its freshly-painted trim, the small, well-kept front garden. Just visible through the front window was a cello sitting in its stand in the front room. What Dean could see of the place looked and felt so much like Cas, like he belonged here. Dean let out a breath, then got out of his car and climbed the porch steps of Cas’ house. He knocked softly on the door, and Cas pulled it open almost immediately. 

“Hello, Dean. You’re right on time, come in.” Cas stepped aside, beaming up at Dean. He was wearing a worn apron that looked it had been in a wrestling match with a batch of tomato sauce. Dean grins. 

“Is that our supper you’re wearing?” 

Cas snorted, looking down at himself. “I’m an enthusiastic cook, not a particularly neat one. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of sauce left for the lasagna.” 

“Is that what I smell?” Dean sniffed appreciatively, then started as his stomach growled insistently. “Jeez, sorry, Cas. Guess I’m hungry.” 

“No apology needed, it’ll be just a few minutes. Come help me set the table.” 

Dean set out plates and silverware; he came back through the kitchen door in time to see Cas lifting the steaming dish of lasagna out of the oven. It looked gorgeous, and Dean’s stomach growled again. Cas chuckled. 

“Yes, yes, I’m hurrying. Take that bowl of salad to the table, why don’t you? I’ll bring this - is there a trivet on the table?” 

“Yep, right in the middle. Oooh, do I smell garlic bread?” 

“Yes, still in the oven. I’ll grab it in a minute.” 

Finally, all the food was waiting on the table, and Dean settled into one of the chairs. “This looks awesome, Cas. Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome. Dig in.” 

 

Dean stacked the dirty dishes and started to clear the table, but Cas took the empty glasses out of Dean’s hands, pulled him in by the shirt front, a smug look on his face, and walked him backward into the kitchen until he bumped up against the refrigerator. Before Dean could make a comment, Cas’ mouth pressed against his. Dean sucked in a breath through his nose, possibly making an undignified sound in his throat. He could feel the tip of Cas’ tongue slipping gently across his lips, and Dean opened his mouth eagerly, sighing into it. He was just reaching for Cas’ upper arms, putting a little more urgency into the kiss, when Cas gently pushed him back, turned him toward the dining room and shooed him out. 

“Go on, go sit back down and let me present dessert.” 

Dazed, Dean blinked at him, taking a couple of deep gulps of air. “That wasn’t dessert?” 

“That was the after-dessert preview. Go, go sit down.” He winked and arched an eyebrow, and Dean found himself moving quickly to obey. _Well, that’s interesting,_ his brain supplied helpfully. Dean took a deep breath and slid into his seat. 

After a minute Cas came through the door with two plates, each bearing a generous helping of baklava, and a candle lighter, which he used on the small collection of pillar candles in the center of the table. He reached behind him to turn off the overhead light, and deposited the plates on the table. 

“Wow. Martha Stewart got nothin’ on you.” Dean grinned up at Cas’ flushed face, his face softening as he took in Cas’ expression. He looked - _nervous_ , if that was even possible. Dean reached out to take his hand. 

“Hey, this looks great. Thanks for going to all this trouble. I’m impressed.” 

Cas huffed a laugh, and smiled back, looking a little more relaxed. “I hope you like it.” 

“I know I will, if it’s anywhere near as good as dinner was. Thanks.” 

Cas dropped his eyes, a pleased little smile lighting his face. “Thank you for letting me cook for you. I don’t do that often.” 

Dean forked up a bite of the rich, honey-laced treat, and moaned appreciatively. He looked up in time to see Cas blushing again, and smirked at him. Cas made a face and took a bite of his own dessert. The sound that came from his throat made Dean blush, and then laugh out loud. 

“Yeah, it really is that good.” 

“It is, isn’t it? Ahhh... Sorry, I can’t help myself. This is downright sinful.” 

Dean had to make a couple of tries to swallow the next bite. “Uh… yeah. What you said.” 

Cas chuckled, still chewing, licking the honey off his fork. He looked up, catching Dean watching him. Their eyes met, locked. After a moment, Cas put down his fork and sat quietly, as though he was thinking something over. 

“Dean, I wanted to talk a little about - about the other day, when you - when I was -” He stopped, frustrated. Dean rested a hand on Cas’ arm. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you were upset about, uh, what happened. I understood that.” 

“No, that’s not what I mean. I appreciated your listening to me, letting me tell that whole story about, about Jimmy. I was referring more to my cutting you off like that. That wasn’t at all what I intended. I was very uncomfortable with my behavior, and that led me to, uh, to be hesitant about calling you, which was actually the opposite of what I wanted. And the longer it went on the worse it got, until I was completely paralyzed.” 

Dean smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, I get that, believe me. I was feeling awkward too. Not because of what you said, but I didn’t hear from you and my stupid juvenile brain started imagining all kinds of awful things, like you didn’t really want to, y’know, see me again, and so I started worrying about what I’d done and feeling stupid and - I’m not, um, I kinda don’t have a lot of confidence with, y’know, with guys. I used to - long story, but my dad was pretty clear about how he felt about _fags_.” 

Cas flinched. “Ugh. I know exactly what you mean.” 

Dean slanted a smile. “Yeah, that wasn’t much fun.” He paused. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it about me and my stuff. Go ahead.” 

Cas shrugged. “I just want you to know it wasn’t anything you said or did. I was struggling with my own issues about, about Jimmy, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t completely happy being there with you. I’m sorry I spoiled things. I was planning to convince you to go back to bed.” He gave Dean a slow smile, and Dean gulped, feeling his face heat. 

“Oh. Oh wow, now I’m _really_ sorry we got derailed. Any chance we can, y’know, schedule a make-up game?” 

Cas leaned forward, stretching across the table until their mouths were almost touching. “I thought you’d never ask,” he whispered, and moved the last inch to Dean’s lips. When he pulled gently on Dean’s arm Dean was on his feet in an instant. 

They stood there for several minutes, lips locked, and then Cas, smiling slyly, pulled away and took Dean’s hand. Dean could hear his breath coming fast, feel his face heat up, and just managed not to stumble as they moved out of the dining room and into the hall. He wasn’t really aware of the decor, pictures on the walls, even which way they turned; all he knew was that they were in Cas’ room, the backs of his knees were bumping against the mattress, he was falling onto the soft duvet, falling endlessly.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean sighed, taking another gulp of coffee and wincing at the cold, stale taste. He pushed the mug away from him and rubbed his eyes. He could feel a headache gathering at the base of his skull; his stomach growled, reminding him just how long ago breakfast had been. Such as it was - even with taking just enough time for a piece of toast, he was almost late. Cas had arrived home in the early evening from a short tour with the symphony, and the second Dean saw him coming through the gate at the airport he knew they wouldn’t be going out to dinner. He smiled wistfully, thinking about wrestling each other in the back door, the trail of clothes through the kitchen and hallway, ending with their shoes and socks piled together a few feet from the bed. Dinner was very late leftovers before crawling back into bed. It was well after midnight when they finally fell asleep, and six a.m. was physically painful, a situation not improved by repeated use of the snooze button. 

Dean sighed again and stood up to stretch out his aching back and look out the window morosely. Rain fell in a steady sheet, obscuring the usual view. He could barely make out the cargo docks, a half-mile away in the gloom. It certainly matched his mood - tired and hungry, and he was facing several more hours here, and Cas was buried in rehearsals tonight. The rest of the week probably wouldn’t be much different, come to think of it. This was not what he’d hoped for; and the worst of it was, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. There was no one to be mad at. 

Dean turned sharply away from the window and grabbed his jacket off the hook. Maybe a walk in the fresh air and a little lunch would improve his outlook. He grabbed his umbrella as an afterthought, and stopped by Jo’s cubicle. 

“Hey, lunch. Want me to pick you up anything?” 

Jo looked up from her table, frowning in concentration. “What?” 

Dean grinned at her. “Lunch, the midday meal, remember? I was thinking chowder. You want some?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Jo waved her hand vaguely and bent over her sketches again. “Thanks.” 

Dean watched her for a second, his smile wry, and then headed out the door. Within a block he regretted it. It was after one so the lunch crowd had thinned out, but the streets were so wet that the bottom few inches of his jeans were soaked. By the time he got back he was fuming. 

“Here.” He set the soup down on Jo’s desk a little harder than necessary, and she started. 

“What’s your problem?” 

“No problem, just wet and cold and hungry. You’re welcome, by the way.” Dean scowled, not meeting Jo’s eyes. 

“Maybe go eat and lose the grumps, grampa.” Jo glared at him, not giving an inch, and Dean stomped off down the hall. 

By the time he sat down and opened the carton of soup he was feeling like a jerk. It wasn’t Jo’s fault he was out of sorts; really, it wasn’t anybody’s fault. He slurped soup for a few minutes, so far gone in self-pity that when his phone buzzed he jumped a foot. His face softened when he saw Cas’ number on the screen. 

“Hey.” 

_“Hello, Dean. I hope this isn’t a bad time?”_

“Nah, I’m just sitting here eating soup and feeling sorry for myself. What are you up to?” 

_“Between classes, thought I’d try to catch you while I had a minute. Why are you feeling sorry for yourself?”_

“Oh…” Dean set his spoon down and rubbed his forehead, suddenly embarrassed. “It’s nothing really. I feel kinda stupid now. I just… I guess I didn’t really realize our schedules would be so busy.” 

There was a short silence, during which Dean chewed nervously on his lip, waiting for Cas to speak. _“I know,”_ he finally said. _“I feel exactly the same way. It’s funny - I’m no busier than I usually am at this time of year, but it feels different.”_

“Yeah, exactly. We’ve always had stretches that are crazy-busy, but I never minded that, before now.” Dean could feel a smile growing across his face. “I guess that’s your fault.” 

Cas laughed warmly, and Dean closed his eyes and smiled into the phone. He sounded so good. _“Well, I’d take full responsibility except you’re to blame for my change of attitude.”_ His voice grew more serious, low and soft. _“In all seriousness, I feel a little - awkward, I suppose. I’m sort of new to this relationship idea, and I’m afraid I’m not very good at it.”_

“Oh no, Cas, you’re fine. Or, you’re not any worse at it than I am. It feels different for me too.” Dean paused, frowning into space, thinking hard. “I wonder if - I dunno, Cas. Maybe we can figure out a way to make more time to hang out, do things together, y’know? Even just make popcorn and have a movie night.” 

Cas sighed softly. _“That’s actually a brilliant idea, Dean.”_

“Movie night?” 

_“No, you dope. Well, yes, that sounds like fun. I meant the general idea thought. I think we might need to be more vigilant about our off time. Maybe - maybe make a rule that Sundays are untouchable, no work that day unless one of us is working out of town. And maybe we can keep one or two Saturday afternoons a month open too.”_

Dean sat up straighter, smiling like a fool. “Yeah, that’s - that sounds perfect. Thanks, Cas. Sorry I’m such a whiner, I just miss you. This’ll work great, you’ll see.” 

Cas sighed into the phone, and Dean closed his eyes again. _“Thank you for speaking up, Dean. You’re not whining, believe me. I feel better.”_

“Me too. Hey, I should probably finish up here and get back to work. Will I see you tonight?” 

_“Yes, in fact it’ll be a little earlier than I thought.”_

“Yeah?” 

_“Yes. No rehearsal, my last student is at three. Your place tonight?”_

Dean suddenly felt warm all over, and had to take a deep breath to steady his voice. “Mmmhmm. I probably won’t be there until six or so. Want me to pick something up for dinner?” 

_“No, let me do that. I’ll be out of here earlier than you will, I can stop to shop. I’ll figure out something we can cook together, how’s that?”_

“Perfect. I can’t wait.” Dean leaned back in his chair, rocking slightly and smiling at the ceiling. 

_“All right, I’ll see you about six.”_

“Okay. Thanks, Cas.” 

_“Of course.”_ Cas hung up, and Dean sat slouched in his chair for another few minutes, clutching his phone to his chest. When he finally sat up and reached for the last of his soup, he felt as though he were floating a couple of inches above his chair. He tossed the soup carton in the trash, and as he pulled his paperwork toward to him, eager to get everything done so he could get home on time, a thought occurred to him: _I could get used to this._

 

 

The northwest’s usually mild, wet fall transformed into a decidedly wintry feel - by December the forecasts were hinting at the possibility of a white Christmas. One frosty morning after another began to make that possibility seem likely. When Dean came out onto the street to find a frost-coated windshield for the third morning in a row, he made a disgusted noise and went back upstairs for a hat and scarf. 

Cas was in the kitchen fussing with the coffeemaker, his hair as rumpled as his pajamas. He turned at the sound of the door, frowning irritably. Dean tried not to laugh at him. 

“Weren’t you already gone?” 

“Yes, sleeping beauty, but I’m sick of scraping Baby’s windows so I can drive three blocks. Just grabbing a hat and stuff, I’m gonna walk.” 

“Mmph.” Dean stopped fussing and just looked at him, the beloved professor, gifted teacher, looking like a pile of wrinkled laundry, scowling at the coffeemaker. Dean’s heart felt like it would leap out of his chest, and he pulled Cas into a hug, breathing in deeply. 

“What are you doing? Get off me, I haven’t even had coffee yet,” Cas grumped at him, trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just mainline that stuff, buddy. Lot more efficient that way.” Dean ruffled the dark hair, dodging Cas’ elbow and winking at him. “I’m outta here. See you later?” 

“Yes, yes, of course, go. Shoo.” Cas was grinning openly, waving a hand at Dean as he went out the door. 

 

Christmas was bearing down on them at the speed of light. December was always major concert/end of term recital season, so Cas’ days usually ran far beyond dinnertime. Singer Design was busier than ever; Dean was working his share of overtime too, and there never seemed to be enough time to see each other. They talked every day, usually in the evening, and managed to spend every Saturday evening together, which also meant every Sunday morning. It never felt like enough, but somehow it worked. 

At one point Ellen called to remind Dean that they were doing Christmas at Bobby and Ellen’s house this year, which Dean had to admit was a relief: at least he wouldn’t have to decorate or clean up his place. 

Cas apparently disagreed: Dean came home late one Saturday, after six straight 12-hour days, exhausted and grumpy and wanting nothing more than a hot shower and bed - to find colored lights strung around the door, the windows, even the railing on the lanai. A tiny tree, bright with miniature lights and ornaments, sat in the middle of the dining room table; there was an even smaller one on the kitchen counter. Cas came out of the hallway and stopped to watch Dean turning slowly, taking it all in, an odd expression on his face. 

“There’s another tree in the bathroom if you want to go look.” Cas was smiling when Dean turned toward him, and Dean felt all the tension of the last several weeks seep out of him. 

“It’s - it looks fantastic, Cas. I thought we weren’t gonna decorate?” 

_“You_ decided not to decorate. I do what I want.” Cas’ smile spread across his face, and Dean couldn’t keep from grinning back at him. He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Cas. 

“I did say that, didn’t I? What a dope.” Dean rocked Cas in his arms, burying his nose in Cas’ hair. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I didn’t know I needed this. Thanks, buddy.” 

Cas leaned back and looked into Dean’s eyes, his expression soft. “You’re welcome. Are you hungry?” 

“No. Yeah. A little, I guess.” Dean huffed and shook his head. “I’m so tired I don’t even know.” 

Cas leaned up to kiss Dean’s cheek, and then moved toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you go take a hot shower and I’ll fix you something? Nothing fancy,” he waved off Dean’s head shake, “just soup? Maybe a sandwich?” 

“Soup sounds great, thanks, babe. I’ll just be a minute.” 

“Take your time. And try to relax.” 

For a long moment Dean stood still, looking at Cas, watching him move efficiently around the kitchen, fixing him supper after a long day. Dean felt something inside him, some old tangle, relax and smooth out. Cas looked up at him quizzically. 

“What? Did you change your mind about supper?” 

Dean gave him a half-smile. “No. Supper sounds great.” 

“Then go get showered, I’ll have this ready when you get out. Okay?” 

Dean’s voice was soft. “Okay. Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course.” Cas gave him his _you are being ridiculous_ smile and got back to work. Dean shook his head and went off to shower. 

 

Just as Dean’s projects slowed to a crawl for the holidays, Cas’ schedule spooled up in anticipation of two Christmas concerts. The Holiday Pops, the Symphony’s annual holiday event, came first; followed closely, just a few days before Christmas, by a concert Cas and Anna had put together with his University students. The symphony concert was incredible - beautiful music, deluxe decorations, and an equally swanky crowd. But Dean found himself enjoying the University concert more. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard Cas perform, far from it. But it was the first time he's seen him in his classical-music element as a teacher. The students obviously adored him, and played their hearts out for him, and Cas’ face at the end, with the crowd cheering and all the kids grinning up at him, was dazzling. 

By unspoken agreement, after the concert they headed to Cas’ house. Dean said very little, just listening to Cas buzzing with his usual post-concert energy, bubbling over with joy, pride in his students, satisfaction that the concert had gone so well and been so well received. Somewhere in his monologue he thanked Dean profusely for coming and sharing it with him. Dean just smiled, his breath taken away by the look on Cas’ face. 

Finally they pulled into Cas’ driveway, and Dean shut off the engine. Cas, still talking, had the passenger door open and was halfway out before he realized that Dean was still sitting there, motionless, a stunned look on his face. Cas slid back in and stared at him. 

“Dean, are you all right? I’m sorry, I know I’ve been babbling, I wasn’t paying attention. Is something wrong?” 

“N-no, not at all.” Dean turned to face Cas. “Nothing’s wrong, I just -” He ground to a halt, and then drew a deep breath. "Cas, I think I'm in love with you.” Dean’s voice failed; now that the words were out there and he couldn’t unsay them, he was terrified. Cas was frozen in place, hardly breathing, staring back at Dean. What if he’d gotten this all wrong, misread the whole situation? What if Cas didn’t - 

Cas moved so quickly Dean wasn’t really aware of it until Cas’ arms were around him, tight, Cas’ voice hoarse and shaky in his ear. “God, you’re so brave. I love you too, I was terrified to say it. Thank you, Dean.” 

Dean made a sound that might have been a laugh, or a sob. “We’re a pair of idiots, aren’t we? Two peas in a pod.” He clutched at Cas like a drowning man. 

“Made for each other.” Cas’ whisper sounded inside Dean’s head, like they were sharing the thought. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

Cas kissed the side of Dean’s head. “Come on, let’s go inside before we freeze.” Dean nodded wordlessly, sliding out of the car and fumbling for Cas’ hand.


	12. Chapter 12

Finally Christmas arrived. Incredibly, on Christmas morning there was a fine skiff of snow over everything; by mid-morning it was already starting to melt, but the trees and shrubs looked very festive. Dean grabbed his keys out of habit, and was stopped in his tracks by Cas, holding _his_ keys to his Prius and raising an eyebrow. 

“What? I can’t drive Baby on my day off?” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “Not when there’s melting snow and ice on every drivable surface between here and Bobby’s. We’ll take my car.” 

“Ugh, the sewing machine on wheels. I’m gonna lie down in the back seat, I don’t want anybody seeing me in that abomination.” Dean leaned away from Cas’ half-hearted slap. 

“Please don’t put yourself out on my account. You can always walk.” Cas scowled. 

“Nah, I can handle it this time. Nobody’ll be on the road this morning anyway.” 

“Hmmm.” Cas smirked at him, and then laughed, shaking his head as they headed out of the apartment. 

 

When they pulled up in front of Bobby and Ellen’s’ house, Dean was still grumbling about the indignity of riding in a Prius. He was slumped down in the seat, hoping the door post would hide his face from view. 

“What is your problem?” Cas scowled over at him, switching off the key. “Why are you sitting like that? Is this still about riding in my car? Because if that’s the problem I can arrange for you to walk back home.” 

Dean smirked. “You’d never do that to me. You love me too much.” 

“Hmmm.” Cas got out and opened the back door, lifting out the casserole dish in its thermal carry bag. Dean unfolded himself out on the passenger side, grunting and growling theatrically. 

“What are you moaning about?” Jess clumped toward them from the front steps, rain boots on her feet, and started to laugh. “Oh my god, Dean rode in the _Prius??”_

“Yes, and he’s complained every minute since we left home.” Cas leaned over to kiss her cheek, smiling at her. Jess winked.

“Guess he should probably walk home then, eh?” 

“Yes, I think that option is on the table.” Cas chuckled, and Dean frowned at both of them. 

“No fair ganging up on me!” Dean pulled the large bag full of wrapped presents out of the back seat. “I have a reputation to maintain!” 

Cas regarded him sardonically. “I don’t suppose you noticed that we got here without slipping, sliding or getting stuck?” 

Dean scowled and hunched his shoulders, looking down at the ground. “Um, well, yeah, it did okay, I guess.” 

“Okay? Baby would have put us in the ditch a half-dozen times.” 

“You better talk nice about my girl. She does her best, she can’t help it if she’s built for the open road instead of putzing around city streets.” Dean glanced over at Cas, eyes twinkling, and Cas laughed back at him. 

“I will concede she’s very pleasant to cruise in.” 

“Damn right she is.” Dean slung an arm around Cas as they headed for the front door. Jess was still laughing at them. 

“You guys are disgusting. I swear to God you never fight.” Jess pushed open the front door and ushered them through. “Ellen, the guys are here!” 

“Yes, we do, we bicker all the time.” 

“Yeah, we were just fighting about the car!” Dean hung their coats on the rack. 

“Oh you sweet child, that wasn’t fighting,” Jess scoffed. 

“Hey guys, come on in!” Sam filled the doorway from the kitchen, grinning delightedly. “What’ve you got, Cas?” 

“It’s that wild rice casserole Ellen asked me to bring. All organic.” Cas followed Sam into the kitchen, waxing rhapsodic over the free range garlic or something. Jess rolled her eyes. 

“Didn’t he bring that for Thanksgiving?” 

Dean snorted. “Yep. Apparently Ellen really liked it.” 

“I guess that means I’m not getting my sweet potato casserole with marshmallows on top at all this year, am I?” She made a sad face, and Dean hugged her, grinning. 

“Maybe next year. Just give me a year to work on him.” Jess snorted, and they made their way into the kitchen. 

 

By the time Jo arrived, the turkey was coming out of the oven, Dean and Jess were arguing over the gravy, and Sam was setting the table, a harassed look on his face. Cas came in the back door with Bones, Sam’s dog, both of them panting and a little snowy. For several minutes the noise level drowned out the music drifting in from the living room. Finally platters and bowls of food made it to the table, and the noise level dropped as everyone tucked into their food. 

As the activity slowed and the nibbling began, Ellen started gathering up plates and silverware. 

“Why don’t you just leave all that, Mom, and we’ll get it after we do presents?” Jo, eager to get to the tree, smiled hopefully at her mother. “Please?” 

“We should at least put some of the food away. You know how long those men want to sit around and sip brandy or some fool thing, and I’ll be damned if I do all the cleanup while they stretch out in the easy chairs and belch.” 

Jo snorted, and Dean glowered at them both. “I do not belch, thank you very much. And _I_ am going to do the dishes, for your information. Everybody else cooked, it’s only fair. What?” 

Ellen and Jo, joined by Sam, were staring open-mouthed. Ellen was the first to snap out of it. 

“Well, just let me give Cas a big hug and a kiss. Looks like he’s managed to civilize you, Dean Winchester. It’s a miracle. Whoever would have thought?” 

Dean drew himself up, nose in the air. “I don’t have to stand here and be insulted. Fooey on you guys.” He picked up a stack of plates and marched into the kitchen, the women laughing behind him. Jess joined him, snickering as she pulled a couple of serving trays off the top of the fridge. 

“Those mean girls giving you a hard time, cupcake?” She grinned over her shoulder at Dean. 

“Yeah, they always pick on me.” Dean made a face at her, and then regarded her thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, you do too. It’s a damn conspiracy.” 

Jess laughed and came over to hug him one-armed, a tin of cookies under the other arm. She smiled up at him from close range. “It’s how I show love, sweetpea.” He smiled back, feeling his ears growing warm. Jess kissed his cheek gently. 

“You sure seem happy these days, buddy. How are things going?” 

Dean was blushing now, ducking his head. “Really great. I don’t know what I did to deserve Cas, but it must have been something amazing.” 

Jess bumped him, hard. “Hey, don’t sell yourself short, pal. You’re fairly awesome yourself, y’know.” 

Dean grinned and hipchecked her, failing to dodge her retaliatory elbow. “Ow!” She cackled and spun away, grabbing the dish towel and snapping his rear. They were wrestling and giggling, crashing into the refrigerator and laughing hysterically, when Ellen stuck her head in. 

“Good god, it’s like having children all over again. Stop that this instant and get the cookies out. I think people’re gonna want coffee too. Snap to it!” 

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused, snorting laughter under their breaths and scrambling to obey. 

 

“Okay, everybody settle down!!” Jess entered the living room weighed down with a huge tray covered with steaming mugs, Dean right behind her carrying an equally large tray of cookies. 

“Mmmm, that smells good, Jess.” Ellen took a mug and sniffed appreciatively. “What’s in it?” 

Jess winked. “I’ll never tell, except there _is_ a little rum.” 

Bobby let out a satisfied sigh. “Yes, there is. Thanks, darlin.” 

“All right, Bobby, if you want to be Santa this year you’ll have to put that down and finish later.” Sam was grinning at Bobby, who took another quick gulp, smacked his lips and waggled his fingers in a _gimme_ gesture at Sam. Sam tossed him the Santa hat he was holding. 

“Does Bobby do this every year?” Cas whispered. 

“Yep. For as long as I can remember, when we were kids and first went to live with him and Ellen, and every Christmas we’ve been together since then.” Dean’s smile was shy. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without that stupid hat on his head.” 

Cas smiled and leaned over to plant a kiss on Dean’s cheek. 

“Knock it off you two, it’s Santa time!” They both started, and glanced over to see Jo smirking at them. Cas’ ears were red. 

“Shut up, Jo.” Dean did his best to scowl, but couldn’t keep a straight face. He squeezed Cas’ hand. 

“All right, who’s first? This one looks pretty swanky, says it’s for Ellen.” Bobby side-eyed her. “Have you been good this year?” 

Ellen elbowed him sharply. 

“You know damn well I have,” she retorted, to general guffaws. “Give me that, old man.” 

The next half hour passed the same way: laughter, good-natured ribbing, a growing pile of Christmas wrap in the middle of the room. Finally Bobby peered around and under the tree. 

“Think that’s it, kids. If you didn’t get it this year, maybe -” 

“I think there’s one more, Bobby.” Cas raised his voice to be heard. Bobby frowned at him. 

“I don’t see it, son. You sure?” 

“Yes, it’s a little, um, hidden.” Blushing, Cas got to his feet and moved around the tree, kneeling on the floor and stretching to reach behind the occasional table next to it. Behind him, everybody else exchanged quizzical glances, shrugging and shaking their heads. Finally Cas crawled out from under the tree and walked back to Dean. He was holding a large envelope with Christmas ribbon tied around it. Dean frowned, peering up at him. 

“What are you up to?” Dean took the flat package, crinkling it a little in his fingers. 

“You’ll see. Go on, open it.” Cas winked and sat down next to him, hands folded in his lap. His fingers were clenched together; his eyes twinkling with excitement. 

Dean shook his head, pulling the ribbon off and peeling open the end flap. He reached inside and pulled out - 

“Doe Bay Hot Springs?” Dean sat with his mouth half-open, a brightly-colored brochure in his hand. “What?” 

“Ooooooooeee!” Jess squealed in delight, and Jo whistled appreciatively. 

“What? What do you guys know that I don’t?” Dean glowered between the two of them. They exchanged glances and grinned at each other. Jess finally took pity on Dean. 

“It’s a real nice resort up on Orcas Island, down at the end of the island away from town. Very private, beautiful spot.” 

“Oh yeah,” Jo chimed in. “Very, y’know, _private._ ” She gave Dean an exaggerated wink. 

“Bobby took me there on our anniversary a couple years ago,” Ellen told him. “It’s a lovely place, very romantic.” 

“Oh.” Dean felt himself blushing again. “ _Oh_. Uh.” He swallowed hard and glanced over at Cas - who was watching him uncertainly. 

“It’s - I thought it would be a nice getaway, but we certainly don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I think I can still cancel.” He looked down, trying to hide his disappointment. 

“No!” Dean grabbed his hand. “No, don’t do that, I want to go! It’s a great idea. You just surprised me, that’s all. ” 

“Ah good.” Cas smiled at him, relieved. “That’s what I was hoping for. It really is a lovely resort, I reserved a little cabin down near the water, with a private hot pool and its own little beach. It has a little kitchen, we can even cook in if we want.” 

“Wow, that sounds fantastic. When do we leave?” 

Cas glanced at Bobby. “Well, I actually managed to get a reservation for next week. Over New Year’s. What do you think?” 

Bobby nodded. “Sounds great, I’ll even help him pack if it’ll get this kid out of the office for a few days. Give us all a break.” 

Dean made a face at him, and then looked over at Cas. “I’m in, I’m all in.” 

“Good, good.” Cas looked relieved, and squeezed Dean’s hand. “We should probably leave pretty early on the day. We have to drive to Anacortes and take the ferry across. It’ll take a little while, a few hours perhaps.” 

“Oh. Well, isn’t there a faster way to go?” 

“There’s probably a choice as to which ferry to catch, but we will have to take a ferry at some point.” 

“Yeah, I guess so. Just seems like a shame to spend most of the day getting there, y’know?” 

Cas smiled. “I agree, but it _is_ an island. A boat seems inevitable.” He winked, and Dean laughed. 

“Well, there _is_ another option.” Sam spoke up from across the room. “You can get there in an hour. Maybe less.” 

“Hey, that sounds good. How…?” Dean caught Cas’ expression, and looked back and forth between him and Sam. “What?” 

Cas sighed. “Sam’s right, but it’s, um… It’s Kenmore Air. They fly up there every day, I think.” 

Dean blanched. “Oh. A plane, you mean. A _small_ plane.” He could feel his palms starting to sweat.

“A float plane, yes. It’s all right, we’ll drive.” Cas squeezed Dean’s hand reassuringly. 

Dean nodded in relief, and then frowned down at his hands. His stomach was clenching anxiously, he could feel his heart pounding - and he was also thinking about that quiet beach, a private little cabin with its own hot tub, a whole weekend alone with Cas. He wanted to spend every minute possible there, not driving through traffic. 

“Dean?” 

He looked up at Cas’ face, smiling uncertainly. His nerves were still jangling, but he plunged ahead before he could stop himself. 

“Uh… Let’s take the plane up there, Cas. I don’t want to spend time on the road getting there when we could already be in the hot tub, y’know?” 

“Really?” Cas beamed at him, face glowing. “Are you sure, Dean?” 

“Yeah, what the hell.” Dean took a gulp of his toddy and wiped his hands on his pants. “What are the chances anything’ll happen, right? I’m a big boy, I can handle less than an hour on a plane. Let’s do this.” 

Cas hugged him and smacked a huge wet kiss on the side of Dean’s face. “Wonderful, I’ll make the reservations right now. Thank you, Dean.” He pulled out his phone, still beaming. Dean wiped his hand down his face, heaving a sigh. 

“Oh god, I must be outta my mind. Do they have pills or something for short plane rides?” 

Everybody laughed, except Ellen, who was watching Dean speculatively and shaking her head. He scowled at her. 

“What now?” 

She slanted a grin at him. “Yep. A miracle.”


	13. Chapter 13

The alarm was set for six-thirty to give them time for breakfast, but Dean was up by five, too jittery to sleep any longer. By eight-thirty they were standing on Kenmore Air’s wooden dock at Lake Union. A young woman was moving around the first plane in line, checking instruments, climbing up to peer into the engine compartment, examining flaps and rudder. Cas wandered up and down examining the row of yellow-and-white float planes, making interested noises and taking a few photos. Dean stood rooted in place beside their bags, jiggling from one foot to the other, hands stuffed in his pockets and shoulders hunched. Cas came up and hugged him gently. 

“My, my, you’re vibrating. You didn’t have any coffee this morning, did you?” 

Dean sighed and leaned his head into Cas’ for a moment. “No, I was already jumpy enough. I’m okay, Cas, I just wish we were there already.” 

Cas looked at him sympathetically. “I know. Thanks again for being willing to do this, Dean. I know it’s difficult.” 

Dean blew out a breath. ‘Nah, I’m fine, I’ll be fine. It’ll all be worth it when we’re sitting in that hot tub.” He winked at Cas, who smiled slyly and leaned in close again. 

“Sitting is not what I had in mind,” he whispered, and Dean gulped. 

“Whoa, buddy, way to take my mind off things. Where’s that pilot?” 

“Right here.” The woman hopped off the float she was standing on and came toward them, smiling cheerfully. “I’m Cassie, I’ll be your pilot this morning.” 

“Good morning.” Cas returned her smile. “I’m Cas, and this is Dean.” They shook hands, and Cassie eyed them.

“Which one is my nervous flyer?” 

Dean blushed to the roots of his hair. “Uh, that’d be me.” He glared at Cas, who smiled back serenely. 

“Okay, mister, you’re with me. I promise you I haven’t lost a passenger yet, and I want you in the shotgun seat, if you don’t mind riding in the back, Cas?” 

“No, that’s fine. What do you think, Dean?” 

Dean dragged in a shaky breath. “Why me in the front?” His voice sound squeaky even to him, and he blushed again. Cassie chuckled and patted his arm. 

“You can see better that way, and I can explain what’s going on and what you’re seeing. Sometimes that helps the nerves, y’know?” 

Dean nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. I can do that.” He sighed as Cas gave him a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“All right, good man. I’ll just toss your bags in the back and we can light this candle!” She grinned at them, hoisted their bags into the cargo compartment and latched the door. “Gentlemen, at this time please board the aircraft for your flight to paradise!” She winked and gestured toward the open doors. “All aboard!” 

Five minutes later they were airborne, climbing toward the Sound and the mountains. Cas, sitting in the seat directly behind Dean, kept his hand on Dean’s elbow the whole time, and Cassie, between radio transmissions, chatted amiably in Dean’s ear, pointing out landmarks, telling him about the plane’s features, flight time, her own flying experiences - a calm, steady patter that gave him something to focus on. By the time they left the city behind and turned to weave their way through the islands, he had relaxed his white-knuckled grip on the edge of his seat, and was calm enough to ask questions. To reward him, Cassie took a loop between Victoria and the islands so he could see the city and the mountains beyond. 

Landing at Eastsound Airport gave Dean a few bad moments. Cassie explained that the airplane’s floats also had wheels, so they could land safely on a regular runway, but that explanation didn’t prepare him for the experience of being so high above ground when they were rolling out. He was still sitting in his seat gulping and wondering how he was going to get to the ground, when his door popped open and Cassie smiled up at him. 

“Come on down, Dean. Watch your step.” Dean struggled awkwardly out of the seat and down the steps, grateful for Cas’ waiting hug at the bottom. 

“I’m so proud of you, Dean. I may even have a suitable reward for you tonight,” Cas whispered in Dean’s ear. Dean smirked at him, and then blushed again at Cassie’s chuckle. 

“Come on, you guys, there’s a shuttle waiting. I can’t stand another minute of this sweetness.” She grinned at them, and set their bags down at their feet. 

“Thanks, Cassie. I never thought I’d say this, but I kinda enjoyed that. Kinda.” Dean smiled shyly and shook her hand. Cassie’s eyes softened; she covered his hand with both of hers. 

“You did great, Dean. You didn’t even puke once.” She laughed at his expression, and squeezed his hand. “I’m proud of you, you can fly with me anytime. You too, Cas.” She raised her hand in goodby, and they headed for the shuttle waiting in the parking lot. 

 

The drive to Doe Bay wound through heavily forested hills toward the south end of the Orcas Island; the resort itself was in a grassy meadow sloping down to a rocky beach - cabins and yurts scattered across the meadow, a small cafe/store/office building in the center near the water. The shuttle deposited them at the office, they checked in, were escorted to their cabin, and before they knew it found themselves in the tiny backyard looking down the grassy slope to the water. Dean sighed contentedly. 

“It’s so peaceful. All I can hear is a couple seagulls, I think.” 

Cas smiled. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? I picked this cabin because it has a little kitchen, and I think I saw a grill on the deck. I thought we could fix at least some of our own meals?” 

“Perfect. Only I’m not sure what you’ll be able to find in that little store in the way of groceries." 

“Never fear, I came prepared.” Cas gestured toward the walkway, and they strolled around the house to the little deck. There was a large cooler sitting next to their bags, and Dean frowned in puzzlement. 

“When did that get here?” 

“You must have been very nervous this morning. I brought it along, they loaded it in with our luggage.” Cas chuckled at Dean’s open-mouthed expression. 

“You sneaky so-and-so, what’s in there?” 

“Let’s go get unpacked and find out.” 

 

Much later, with the remains of a salmon dinner sitting in the kitchen, the two of them sat in the small hot tub on the deck, sipping champagne and looking up at the stars. Hot water bubbled around them; sunk into the tub up to their necks, they were completely warm despite the cool air. Dean glanced around at the trees surrounding the yard. 

“This spot is perfect, Cas. We can see the sky and the water, but the trees really make it private. I feel like we’re the only ones here.” 

“Well, we are, almost. I don’t think there’s more than a handful of people in the whole place.” Cas leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, a contented smile on his face. “We could probably make some noise if we wanted, and no one would be the wiser.” 

“Yeah?” Dean slid down into the water and pulled himself toward Cas, only his eyes visible above the water. A smile spread across Cas’ face; as Dean floated up over Cas’ body, Cas hummed and slid his hands along Dean’s arms. 

“Yes, I think so. Should we try, do you think?” 

“Yeah, I think.” Dean closed the distance and fitted his mouth over Cas’, smiling at Cas’ chuckle. They slid together, rolling in the water, floating and occasionally splashing, their soft sounds floating up into the night air. 

 

They spent the next day walking around the rocky little bay and up into the woods at the north end of the resort, exploring, skipping rocks across the quiet water, eating a picnic lunch at the top of the small hill on the far side of the bay. They grilled a steak dinner that evening; afterward, they took a couple of cold beers down to the gravelly beach to watch the sun setting, the sky a riot of gold and orange and deep pink behind the mountains. 

“I wish we didn’t have to leave tomorrow.” Dean stuck his bottle into the fine gravel on the beach and gazed out at the water. 

“I know, me too. I’ve really enjoyed being here.” Dean glanced over and gazed thoughtfully at Cas, who smiled back. “What?” 

“I dunno, I was just thinking…” Dean trailed off, chewing on his lip. He tipped slowly toward Cas until his head bumped Cas’ shoulder gently. For a minute he just rested there, buying time. Finally Cas nudged him. 

“What’s on your mind, Dean?” 

Dean pulled back enough to look into Cas’ eyes, very close. All his trepidation melted away, and Dean smiled softly. 

“I was thinking that having time like this with you every day would be really, really great. I was thinking spending our free time doing things together would be -” He paused, staring intently into Cas’ face. “I was wishing we could… Cas, I want - shit, we stay at each other’s places now, when we fit it in the schedule. Wouldn’t it be easier if we -” 

“Shared a place? Moved in together? Is that what you mean?” Cas’s eyes were crinkled almost shut, he was grinning so hard. Dean felt his own face split in an answering smile. 

“Yeah, cello boy. That’s what I mean. Oof!” Dean started laughing out loud as Cas tackled him in a huge hug, knocking him over backward onto the beach. “I guess that’s a yes?” He grinned up at Cas. 

“Yes. Of course that’s a yes, you ridiculous….” Cas crushed his mouth to Dean’s in a wild kiss that suddenly softened, grew tender. When he raised up Cas’ eyes were sparkling with tears. Dean reached up and cupped Cas’ face with one hand. 

“Happy New Year, buddy.” 

"Happy New Year, Dean. I love you." 

"Love you too."


	14. Year Two

By unspoken agreement, Dean instructed the cabbie to take them to Dean’s apartment. It was just mid-afternoon, still early by anyone’s standards. But the prospect of diving back into their routines the next morning, and the experience of being in paradise for a couple of days, had left them both tired and ready for a quiet evening in. 

Dean unlocked the front door and held it open as Cas lugged his bag and the empty cooler inside. The Christmas decorations looked a little sad, as though they’d overstayed their welcome. Dean sighed and made a wry face. 

“Ugh. Christmas is over, our getaway’s over, back to the same-old, same-old. Depressing.” 

Cas patted him sympathetically. “Well, this calls for something special, I think.” He opened the freezer, poked around inside and pulled out a quart jar, waving it triumphantly. He filled the kitchen sink halfway with warm water and set the jar in it. 

“What is that?” 

“Beef stew leftovers. I’ve got some of that ready-made bread dough - I know, it’s not as good as the real thing, but it’ll do in a pinch. I don’t really feel like making bread from scratch, do you?” 

Dean laughed. “Not even close. That sounds great.” 

“All right. It’ll take a little while for the stew to thaw. Why don’t we get unpacked and settle in?” He gave Dean a slow smile, and Dean smirked at him, feeling his ears grow warm. 

“Sounds good to me.” Dean moved in for a kiss, and Cas pulled him by his shirt front through the bedroom door, plucking at Dean’s buttons. With Dean’s help, it took a few seconds to drop the shirt to the floor, followed by his t-shirt, Cas’ sweater, both pairs of shoes and pants - it looked like the laundry basket had been tipped over next to the bed. Or it would have looked like that, had they not been too preoccupied to look.

 

 

“Think that stew’s thawed by now?” 

“Hmmm.” Cas rolled his head up against Dean’s shoulder and sighed contentedly. “Mmm mmm.” 

Dean chuckled. “Speechless, eh? Gold star for me.” He squeaked when Cas poked him in the ribs. 

“You’re insufferably proud of yourself.” Cas’ voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Dean could hear the smile, and he rolled up on one elbow so he could look down at Cas’ face. He’d meant to make a smartass comment, but the words melted away. Something warm and almost unbearably light filled his chest. Dean ran his thumb along Cas’ cheek, smoothed the hair back from Cas’ face, let his hand curve gently around Cas’ head. After a moment Cas opened one eye, a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth. 

“What in the world are you doing?” 

“Well, I was sort of wondering…” Dean trailed off, feeling flustered and uncertain all of a sudden. 

“Wondering what?” 

“Um….how do you feel about a Jacuzzi soak?” 

For a long moment Cas held still, eyes wide open and gazing thoughtfully up at Dean. Dean was just starting to squirm under the attention when Cas quirked a half-smile, leaned up to leave a quick peck on Dean’s cheek, and nodded his head.

“That sounds wonderful. The stew should be ready to heat up by the time we’re finished.” 

Dean sighed in something like relief. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Come on, let’s go make bubbles.” He grinned, and slid backward off the bed, pulling Cas with him. 

 

“Hey Cas?” 

Cas stirred, his toes making a brief appearance at the other end of the tub. “Hmm?” 

Dean leaned down to kiss the top of Cas’ head, resting on Dean’s chest. Their legs stretched and floated together in the bubbling water. 

“I was - I’ve been thinking about this moving in thing.” 

Cas was quiet for a moment. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?” 

“No! God, no. You’re not changing _your_ mind, are you?” 

“No, of course not. So I suppose we should talk specifics, the most important being where.” 

“Yeah, about that -” 

Cas continued, his voice far away. “It occurs to me this might be a good time to sell my house. It’s such a pleasant neighborhood, and the house is in excellent shape. The roof is practically new, it’s nicely landscaped, the market is favorable right now, I think.” 

“Wait, you’re - you’d be willing to move out of the U District?” 

“Of course. I was actually thinking at some point it might be good to find a new place, new to both of us, someplace we could make our home. That’s in the future, though. For now, I’d love to share your apartment if that’s agreeable to you.” 

Dean hugged him. “That’s exactly what I was thinking, both things. I actually talked to a realtor awhile back, looked at a few places. I guess I wasn’t really into it at the time, but I could call her. We could sit down with her and talk about what we want, get things rolling again. What do you think?” 

Cas was silent for a long moment. Dean finally spoke: 

“Too soon?” 

“No, that’s an excellent idea. I’m free most afternoons this term if you want to set up an appointment. Just let me know when and I’ll be there.” 

Dean hugged him tight enough that Cas made little _oof!_ sound. After a second Dean let him go and sighed contentedly. 

“So, when do you want to move in here?” 

“As soon as you’ll have me.” Cas rolled over in the water, sliding up Dean’s body until their chests were pressed together. He smiles slyly. “What do you think?” 

Dean raised his head enough to press a kiss to the corner of Cas’ mouth, then another one, then his cheek. He could feel a huge dopey grin spreading across his face, and pulled back enough to look into Cas’ eyes. 

“Is tonight too soon?”


	15. Chapter 15

It actually took a few days to get Cas’ things moved into the apartment, and several weeks to get his furniture into storage, sort through his household items, sell or give away the things he decided not to keep. But by the middle of that first week his clothes were hanging in the closet, some of his cookware settled into the cupboards, his cellos set up in the spare room, and a new key hung on his keyring. 

For Dean, finding his way into this new domesticity was like putting on a favorite old shirt: comfortable, accommodating, folding around him as though it were made to fit him. There was plenty of adjustment: finding a second toothbrush in the bathroom startled him every morning for awhile; the kitchen cupboards were filled to capacity; the kind of food he always gave Sam shit for was now making regular appearances in the refrigerator. And Cas had moments of awkwardness and irritability as he adapted to the situation. But underneath it all was a sense of calm, of rightness, that anchored them both. 

Which came in handy almost right away. Late in January, Cas and his string ensemble began intense rehearsals leading up to their series of tours to begin in February. Getting home late, grabbing a snack and collapsing into bed became the norm for him. At the same time, Singer  
Designs landed a couple of big jobs, the kind of projects that could put their small company on the map. Exciting work, but the clients were out of town, so Dean ended up making a few trips too - usually just one or two nights and always during the week. It was strange: he was gone during the times when Cas was usually working late anyway. But sleeping alone in a cold, soulless hotel room, not having breakfast together, not starting a long day with a hug and a kiss, left him feeling lonely. 

 

Dean squirmed restlessly, unable to sleep in yet another hotel room. It was getting late, but he’d discovered one of the advantages of being in another time zone meant that he could call home and it wouldn’t be too late. After flipping his pillow over a few times, he gave up and opened a text window on his phone. 

**deanw** _u up?_

He waited a few minutes, and was about to send another message when the phone in his hand rang suddenly, startling him into dropping it. Several seconds of fumbling in the sheets ensued; finally he grabbed it up and punched the talk button. 

“Hey.” 

_“Hello, Dean. I was just starting to think I’d have to leave a message.”_ Cas’ voice was warm and teasing, and Dean closed his eyes and snuggled back into the pillows. 

“Yeah, I dropped the phone, took me a second to dig it out.” 

_“Where are you?”_

Dean pulled the blanket up over his shoulders. “At the hotel. Been in bed awhile but I can’t sleep.” 

He heard a long sigh from the other end. _“I miss you, too. I’ll be glad when you’re home. Are you still planning to fly back tomorrow?”_

“Yep, in the afternoon. I can’t wait.” Dean sighed and stretched his legs out, listening to the sound of Cas’ breathing. “How’d things go today?” 

_“Very well. We have an appointment with Lisa later in the week to get things rolling, and I think she said she already had a few places in mind for us to see. We might spend some time this weekend looking at houses.”_

“Aw Cas, that’s great. Thanks for doing that, I didn’t want to go without you and I figured your schedule is harder to work around than mine. Wow, I’m getting excited. We’re really gonna do this, huh?” 

_“Yes, we are. You can’t get rid of me now, we’re looking at houses together.”_

“That seals the deal, eh?” 

_“Correct. Resistance is futile.”_ Cas made an amused sound, and Dean felt like his face would split in half, he was grinning so much. _“Don’t get too excited yet, it’s hard to tell how long we’ll have to look.”_

“I’m not worried. I’ve got a good feeling about this. So how are rehearsals going? Tour starts pretty soon, right?” 

_“Yes, not long now. We’re ready, I think. I’m, ah…”_ Cas’ voice trailed off, and Dean frowned up at the ceiling. 

“What? What’s up, buddy? You sound funny.” 

_“Oh, nothing, I just… I’m really excited about this tour, we’ve been working so hard and it sounds wonderful, I can’t wait for you to hear it and… It’s just that you won’t be home long and then I have to leave, and I feel a bit guilty.”_ He sighed sadly, and Dean wished he could see Cas’ face. 

“Hey. Come on, don’t feel bad. You’re doing something you’ve been working toward for a long time. You deserve this. Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll miss you, but it’s only a couple weeks, right? And we can talk every night, and we’ll both be so busy the time’ll go by like nothing.” 

There was a long silence, then he heard Cas’ voice again, sounding hoarse and soft. _“Yes, you’re right. The time will go by quickly, and I_ am _happy to be doing this. Thank you, Dean.”_

“Yeah, of course, you’re welcome, Cas.” Dean squirmed, feeling suddenly shy. “I just want you to be happy, enjoy the fruits of your labor or whatever.” He smiled at the sound of Cas’ chuckle. 

_“Very kind of you. Oh, I almost forgot. We somehow managed not to be in the same city on your birthday, and I want to plan a makeup birthday party for you. How about Valentine’s Day?”_

“Aw, you old romantic. That sounds nice. What’re you thinking about doing?” 

_“Well…”_ Cas cleared his throat uncertainly. _“Well, I was thinking a sort of party at Bobby and Ellen’s, maybe a potluck. I mean, everybody likes those, and they have more room than we do.”_

“This is starting to sound like a shindig, buddy.” 

_“I was planning to invite your friends from work, and Sam and Jess of course, and Anna, if that’s all right? Possibly Gabe as well?”_

Long silence. Dean chewed on his lip, feeling a little flustered. This was starting to feel like a big deal, more than just a birthday party. After a few minutes he could hear Cas take a deep breath. 

_“It’s all right if you’d rather keep it just family, Dean, I don’t mind. Maybe just -”_

“No, no, that’s all right, it’ll be fine. The more the merrier. Anna and Gabe would be great.” 

_“You’re sure? I know Gabe is, ah, he’s -”_

“He’s a handful.” Dean huffed out a laugh, and heard Cas chuckle. “Gabe’s a lot to take on a good day, but I can guarantee if he steps outta line Ellen’ll eat him for dessert.” 

Cas laughed. _“I’m sure you’re right. Having to mind his manners will be a new experience for Gabe. I’ll go ahead and call Ellen to make sure that date is all right, and I’ll let everybody know. Early afternoon would probably be good, in case anybody has evening plans for that day.”_

“Well, I sure do.” Cas snorted in amusement, and Dean smiled. “That sounds great, Cas, thank you.” 

_“You’re welcome. So what time tomorrow are you arriving in Seattle?”_

“About two, I think. I’ll text you the flight info in the morning. Can you pick me up?” 

_“Yes, I think I can manage the afternoon off.”_

“Oh wow. The afternoon - the whole afternoon? Like, you won’t have to go back to work after you pick me up?” 

_“Yes, just like that.”_ Cas’ voice dropped even lower than normal, and Dean shivered involuntarily. _“Like, stop at the market and pick up something delicious to cook, and then go home to our apartment and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening together. Like that.”_

“Our apartment. Man, does that ever sound good.” Dean yawned suddenly, and slid a little further into the blankets. “That sounds perfect.” He yawned again, and Cas laughed. 

_“Sounds like you’re about finished for the day.”_

One more cavernous yawn escaped. “Wow, sorry, Cas. That sneaked up on me.” Dean sighed and rolled onto his side, his eyes slipping closed. He let his phone rest on the pillow next to his head. “Think I’m headed for dreamland.” 

Cas chuckled. _“I could read you a story if you like.”_

Dean hummed, a half-smile on his face. “That’d be great, but I’d prob’ly conk out in the middle of it. I’d miss the good part.” 

_“Then I’d just have to read it to you again tomorrow when you get home.”_

“ ‘s not what we’re gonna do when ‘m home, babe.” Dean was drifting away from making sense, and Cas laughed softly. 

_“Good night, Dean. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”_

“G’night. Love you too.” 

 

Dean stood leaning against the Hillcrest Avenue sign, hands shoved deep into his pockets and trying, mostly successfully, not to rock back and forth. He reminded himself that he was a few minutes early; the realtor and Cas weren’t late. Yet. He busied himself looking around a little, up the street at neighboring houses, landscaping, a couple of kids down the block playing on the sidewalk. Nice neighborhood, older but well-kept homes, established gardens, a few big trees in backyards. His gaze stopped on the house in front of him: a Craftsman-style bungalow slightly higher than street level. It had a sort of bedraggled look: in need of a paint job and some repair to the steps, a neglected-looking garden space in front. But it also looked like it had good bones, and only need a little love to be beautiful again. He was smiling up at it when he heard a car door slam behind him. 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas came up alongside and stood looking up at the house with him. “Are you ready?” 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get in there. Hi, Lisa.” He turned to smile at the dark-haired woman joining them. 

“Hi, Dean, good to see you again, finally. I’d about given up on you.” She winked. 

Dean blushed. “Yeah, uh, I guess I wasn’t ready to make the move until, y’know.” He gestured at Cas, and Lisa laughed at him. 

“Yes, I can certainly understand.” They grinned at each other. 

Cas squinted at Dean. “Any chance we can go ahead and look at the house, or do you two need a little more time joking at my expense?” He raised an eyebrow, and Dean blushed again. 

“Sure, sorry, Cas. Come on, I can’t wait to see the inside.” 

Lisa led the way up the steps and into the house, talking as she went. They were both half-listening: something about an unfortunate tenant situation and the house sitting empty for a few months, lots of interior work to do but the inspection was already done, the roof was only a few years old, foundation in good shape, on and on. Meanwhile they were walking from room to room, pointing out features and whispering to each other. After awhile Lisa smiled and held up her hands. 

“Look around as much as you like. I’ll leave you to it, just give me a shout if you have questions.” She moved off into the dining room, out of sight. 

“Cas, what do you think, this would make a great music room, wouldn’t it? There’s room for all your cellos and my guitars too, and maybe a keyboard?” 

“Yes, it’s perfect. I like that little door into the side yard.” 

“Did you see the kitchen, though? I think I might have to push that wall out…” 

“Wall? Push? What?” 

“Well, look, if we extend this part of the back wall, from here out to the corner, maybe just three or four feet but the kitchen would be so roomy, and the dining room too. And then I was thinking we could tear out that old patio and the hot tub - ” 

“No hot tub?” Cas pouted, and Dean rolled his eyes, grinning at him. 

“Okay, we can get a new one, just not right there.” Dean opened the back door and they wandered outside, looking around the yard. 

“You said tear out the patio - and replace it, or…?” 

“I was thinking a wood deck, not real huge but big enough for a table out here too, and a grill, maybe we can make room for an outdoor kitchen.” 

“That sounds wonderful. We’ll need some landscaping out here though. I’d want to tear out those old arbor vitae, they’re so ugly. Maybe some raised boxes for vegetables and herbs, perennials around here, a little grass but not much. Oh and roses! I haven’t had a rose garden in - well, a long time.” 

“Great, perfect. Um, maybe before we fall completely in love with it we should have a look at the upstairs?” 

Lisa stood in the kitchen, watching them arm-waving their way around the yard and thinking she might need to start doing the paperwork on this one. She opened the door to let them in, watching as they climbed the stairway, both talking at once. Cas came down once, for a piece of paper and a pencil, and then went back upstairs. She could hear snatches of conversation: “- to ceiling windows right here, the view is -”, “- not a bearing wall, so the bathroom would -”, “- an office for you in here?” Lisa set her laptop on the kitchen counter and started working on her sales paperwork, a knowing smile on her face. This was practically a done deal, she could feel it. 

They finally came downstairs, all but glowing, identical smiles on their faces. On the way out, Dean paused in the doorway, taking a last look, seeing in his mind the new flooring and paint, expanded walls, watching dust motes drifting in the sunlight pouring through the windows. It already felt like home. 

 

 

Dean was deep into a design meeting - which is to say, he and a half dozen other engineers and staff were crammed into the smaller conference room, table covered with papers and printouts and blueprints, a couple of calculators and innumerable coffee cups scattered among them. There were several conversations going on. Dean and Jo were standing at the whiteboard, each with a marker in hand, arguing quietly and intensely, and focused so intently on what they were doing that when Dean’s phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket he jumped a foot.

“What is your deal?? Did you finally realize I was right?” Jo frowned at him, irritated. 

Dean scowled back, fumbling in his pocket. “No, my phone went off. Just a sec…” He peered down at the device in his hand, resting his index finger on the screen to unlock it. “Huh. Text from Cas.” 

“Go ahead. I need some more coffee.” Jo patted his arm and grabbed her mug from the table, heading for the door. 

Dean opened the text window: 

 

 **cnovak** _do you have a minute to talk?_

Dean pinched his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. He knew he shouldn’t, they were way behind on getting this proposal drafted, with no end in sight. But the idea of chatting with Cas, even for just a few minutes, sounded like the perfect antidote to rising tension. He thumbed open his contacts list and scrolled down to find the picture of a cello, Cas’ avatar. Smiling, he poked Cas’ number. 

_“Hello, Dean. That was quick.”_ Cas’ voice was warm, and Dean’s smile widened. 

“Hey. Your timing is perfect, I need a few minutes of pleasant conversation. This place is driving me nuts today.” 

_“Oh dear, did I text you at a bad time?”_

“Yeah, thank god. What’s up?

Cas chuckled, and then sighed. _“I hope you still feel that way after our conversation.”_

“Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good. Are you okay? Is everything all right?” 

_“Yes, everything’s fine, I’m fine. I just got off the phone with Lisa.”_

“Yeah, and?” 

Cas heaved another sigh. _“And it sounds like another delay, a few of weeks at the most, I think. But we still don’t have an answer.”_

Dean leaned back, thunking the back of his head into the wall and glaring up at the ceiling. “What is the deal? It seems like a simple thing, yes or no. She have any idea what’s causing the holdup?” 

_“It seems to be on the other end. Her office has everything in order, but the mortgage company had some kind of glitch? I’m not really sure, but she assured me that she’s done her part. We’ll just have to wait a little longer. She sounded pretty confident it would work out fine in the end, it’ll just take more time than we thought. I’m sorry, Dean, I know you’re ready to move forward with the house.”_

“Our house.” He sounded whiny even to himself, but dammit, they were so close. “Sorry, I know I’m pouting. I just - That house is perfect for us, I’ve got the plans sort of sketched up, I just want to get started on the work, y’know?” 

_“I know, Dean. I’m sure we’ll get an answer soon, and then we can get started. Just a little longer.”_

Dean let out a long sigh. “That’s if we get it. It still could go sideways.” 

He could almost hear Cas smiling. _“Well, if that happens then our perfect house is still waiting for us. We’ll get there.”_

“I like your confidence, buddy.” Dean couldn’t help smiling too, and made a conscious effort to relax, stretch his neck, drop his shoulders. “So everything set for Sunday?” 

_“Yes, I’ve got everything arranged, don’t worry. As a matter of fact, as the birthday boy, you’re not even supposed to ask questions. It’s all set. Don’t you trust me?”_

Dean snorted. “Yeah, yeah, I trust you. I’m just excited, that’s all. It’s gonna be fun.” 

_“I’m looking forward to it too. Dean, I must go. See you at dinner?”_

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna be home on time for once. If I have to stay in this office for more than another couple of hours, I can’t be held responsible for what I do.” 

Cas laughed aloud. _“Sounds like you need a quiet evening at home. I’ll pick something up from the Thai place.”_

“Perfect. Thanks, Cas. Thanks for talking me off the ledge.” 

_“No worries. You’d do the same for me. I’ll see you tonight.”_

“See ya. Love you.” 

_“Love you back.”_ Cas clicked off, and Dean had about thirty seconds of holding the phone to his chest, eyes closed and a blissful smile on his face, before Ash and Jo came banging back through the door, talking animatedly and simultaneously. 

“Hey, boss, I think we’ve got-” 

“Hey, Dean, got an idea!” 

“We’ve got an idea!” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Dean, what about if we tried-” 

And they were off, both still talking at once but sketching out a rough plan that actually looked like it might work. When Dean looked up again, feeling optimistic for the first time all day, it was time to go home, and it took about one minute to button up and rush out the door.


	16. Chapter 16

Dean opened his eyes suddenly. It took a minute to realize: first, he was in bed, rolled in the blankets like a burrito, the windows bright with morning light; second, he’d still be sleeping if not for a sharp jiggle to the bed. There it was again, and Dean rolled partway onto his back, squinting. 

“Good morning.” 

“Ugh.” Dean yawned and stretched. “Do I have to get up already?” 

“Only if you want to celebrate your birthday.” Cas nudged the bed again, and Dean turned his head to glare at him. 

“Hey buddy, take it easy. I’m pretty sure - whoa, what’s all that?” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “Sit up, you idiot. Hurry up, this is getting heavy.” He jostled the bed again. Dean sighed theatrically and pushed himself to a sitting position, leaning back against the pillows. Cas set the bed tray he was holding across Dean’s lap. 

Dean gaped down at the loaded tray: biscuits and gravy, eggs scrambled with peppers and spinach, a small bowl of fruit. “Wow, this is amazing. How long have you been up?” 

Cas sat down carefully on the bed, setting a mug of coffee on Dean’s tray. “Not too long. I already had the gravy made up, and everything else went together quickly. Eat up, don’t let it get cold.” 

“C’mere.” Dean pulled gently on Cas’ shirt front and leaned forward for a lingering kiss. They both started grinning and chuckling, and Cas broke the kiss with a loud pop. 

“Eat, for heaven’s sake. Stop clowning around.” 

“Yes, mom.” Dean winked, and dug into the feast. Cas watched him eat for a moment, smiling and shaking his head at Dean’s little moans of appreciation, then got to his feet. 

“I’m going to clean up the kitchen. Bring that out when you’re done?” 

“Sure. Thanks, Cas, this is fantastic.” 

Cas leaned down and kissed the top of Dean’s head. “Of course. Anything for the birthday boy.” 

“Hey, what time do we have to be at Bobby and Ellen’s?” 

“Not til about one. You even have time for a shower.” 

“Oooh, twist my arm.” Dean winked exaggeratedly. Cas was laughing as he left the bedroom. 

 

 

Cas decided to join Dean for his shower, which Dean considered to be his first birthday present of the day. By the time they had reshowered and gotten dressed, they were late enough to have to find parking on the street. Ellen gave them the mom glare when they came rushing in. 

“Sorry, I know we’re late, is there any food left? I brought pie, am I forgiven?” Dean gave her his best puppy-dog eyes, and she threw up her hands, laughing at him. 

“I can’t be mad at you on your birthday. And you weren’t supposed to do any cooking, but I’m glad you did. Oooh, pecan?” She sniffed deeply, eyes closing for a moment. “Yep, definitely forgiven. Come here and get your birthday hug.” 

Dean grinned and wrapped his arms around her. She patted him, and then gave him a little push so she could hug Cas. 

“Both of you get out there and mingle with the masses while we finish up in here. Cas, honey, would you make sure the TV trays are all in the dining room? We’re gonna serve buffet style and let everybody perch where they can.” 

“Of course.” Cas slipped out the door, Dean following. He took a few minutes to introduce Cas to Ash and the crew from Singer; Cas hugged Anna and Gabe, and made the introductions. 

It didn’t take long for Ellen and Jess to load up the table with food, and the line to circle the table as everyone loaded their plates. The noise level dropped for a few minutes as everyone dug in, but started up again as they moved into the nibbling-and-sipping phase. Finally Ellen tapped her water glass with her knife. 

“Okay, do we want dessert or presents first?” 

“Presents!” Dean put his fork down and grinned back at her. 

“Well, you’re the birthday boy so I guess your vote counts the most. Y’all go ahead and stack your plates on the table when you’re done and we’ll get the trays folded up. Jo, can you bring the presents in?” 

For awhile chaos reigned as everybody pitched in clearing up. Finally Jo plopped a stack of wrapped gifts on the end table near Dean. His eyes lit up; growing up, things had been so lean that gifts weren’t always a part of birthdays and holidays. This was his favorite part, and it didn’t take him long to reduce the pile to a mound of shredded paper and stack of books, CDs, a framed picture of him and Cas playing together at the Market (taken by Charlie), and a new guitar case from Bobby and Ellen, to replace his battered old one. 

“Thanks, you guys.” Dean rested a hand on the stack of presents, smiling around at the room. “Good birthday, even if it was late.” He looked pointedly at Cas, who smiled back cheerfully. “So is this when we break out the good Scotch?” Bobby snorted, but before he could respond Cas stood up. 

“Not so fast, I’m not quite finished.” He winked at Dean, and stepped into the hall to rummage in the coat closet. When he came back he was holding two wrapped packages: one flat and thick, portfolio-sized, and a small, flat jewelry box, tied with a ribbon. Dean gaped at him. 

“What the - when did you - again with the hidden presents! You sneaky so-and-so, what is this?” 

Cas huffed. “Well, I can’t be certain, but I think the entire purpose of wrapping presents is so you have to open them to find out what’s inside.” 

“Smartass.” Dean kicked at Cas’ nearest foot, and held out his hands. “Gimme.” 

“This one first.” Cas handed him the larger, flat package, and Dean ripped the paper open enough to see - 

“House plans? Why did you - wait, it has the HiIlcrest address on it. What the hell - ” Dean looked at Cas like he’d gone crazy. 

“Open it all the way up, you ridiculous man.” Cas’ eyes crinkled at the corners. Dean made a rude noise and pulled the rest of the paper off, started flipping through the pages, then stopped, staring. 

“Wait, this is the stuff I drew up when we were talking about that house? But those were just rough sketches. This is, like, architectural drawings.” He stared up at Cas. “Wow, this is nice, but - this is jumping the gun a little, isn’t it? Lisa hasn’t called back yet.” 

Cas smiled softly, and handed him the smaller box. “Now open this.” 

Dean sat for a long moment, holding the little box in his hand and staring down at it. Cas nudged him gently, and finally Dean shook himself and pulled at the end of the ribbon. He lifted the lid slowly, as though he were afraid to see what was inside - and stopped, the hand holding the lid paused in mid-air. 

Nobody moved. Dean raised his head to look at Cas, his eyes damp. Cas made a small noise and leaned forward to put an arm around Dean, hugging him. 

“Please don’t do that, you’ll make me cry too. Shh, shh, it’s all right.” Cas murmured soothingly, and after a moment Dean sniffled loudly and lifted a brass key out of the box. 

“Is this - It’s really the house, that house?” 

Cas drew back and nodded, wiping his eyes. “ _Our_ house. Yes, that’s it.” 

Dean wiped hastily at his face. “And you had those sketches drawn up. Who’s the architect? I might need to sit down with them, there’s a couple things...” Dean shuffled through the pages, looking for the architect’s signature. He blinked, and looked up at Bobby and Jo, a dazed expression on his face. “You?” 

“Well, duh.” Jo grinned back at him like a Cheshire cat. “You think I’d let just anybody draw up plans for your house?” 

“Bobby, you knew about this?” 

Bobby shook his head, looking from Dean to Jo and back again. “Naw, I had no idea. I knew she was workin’ on something she wouldn’t let me see, but that’s not all that unusual. Sneaky.” He tried to scowl at Jo, but his face dissolved into a proud grin. 

Dean dropped back in his chair, gazing at Cas. “How did you ever manage this?” 

Cas looked very pleased with himself. “Well, you know most of the preliminary financial paperwork was already done. I managed to talk the mortgage broker into running the last few reports without notifying you. Lisa was a big help with that, and all the paperwork. Oh yes, we have to go in and sign everything, we have an appointment day after tomorrow. That’ll be the official closing, but she was kind enough to give me one of the keys.” 

Dean was still holding the key in his hand, gazing down at it disbelievingly. He looked over at Cas again. “I kinda want to go over there and walk through it, y’know?” 

Cas laughed. “I know, me too. Maybe we can do that later.” 

Sam looked like he’d restrained himself long enough. “Well, Cas, you’re the champion secret keeper. Where’s this house, anyway?” 

They both started talking at once, describing the neighborhood, the work they wanted to do remodeling the house, the view from the upstairs windows, Cas’ ideas for the garden… 

“What?” Dean looked around at all the faces beaming at him and Cas. “What’s wrong with you goons?” 

Ellen sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. “It’s just so good to see you so happy. I can’t wait to see this palace.” 

“Well, it’s not all that palatial, at least not yet.” Cas grinned at her. 

“Yeah, it’s just a little old house in a little old neighborhood. But it’s gonna be great when we’re done with it.” Dean nudged Cas and they exchanged a conspiratorial grin. He turned to Jo. 

“Hey, maybe we can sit down next week and go through these plans? I have some ideas about the kitchen…” Dean trailed off as Jo burst out laughing. “Now what?” 

Jo’s laughter dissolved into chuckles, and she looked at him fondly. “You will never not have ideas about the kitchen, or the entryway, or any other part of whatever we’re designing. Of course we can go through the plans whenever you want. It’s your house, I want it to be perfect.” By the time she finished this little speech she was misty-eyed, and Dean swallowed hard, smiling lopsidedly at her and unable to speak. 

“Thank you, Jo.” Cas spoke warmly. “Thanks for everything you did to make this happen. I couldn’t have done it without you and Lisa.” 

Jo smiled warmly, blushing a little, looking completely gobsmacked. Dean hid a smile; he knew firsthand what the full-force impact of Cas’ charm was. He ran his hand over the plans again, a half-smile still on his face, and looked over at Cas. 

“I think we should take off pretty soon. We have, uh, Valentine’s Day plans.” 

Cas gave him a puzzled look. “We do?” 

“Oh yeah. We’re spending tonight in our new house.” 

“But - but there’s no furniture, or groceries, or -” 

Dean nudged him. “We’ll figure it out. C’mon, Cas, go with the flow.” Dean leaned forward and planted a kiss on the corner of Cas’ mouth, nuzzling his cheek. 

“Oh my god, Cas, you’re blushing.” Jess giggled from across the room, and Cas hid his face behind one hand. Everybody was chuckling. 

“We might as well leave, I don’t think I can face these people again.” Cas growled at Dean, who smirked as he pulled Cas to his feet. 

“Later, folks, happy Valentine’s Day!” Dean called back over his shoulder, hurrying Cas along in front of him as they left the house.


	17. Chapter 17

By the end of February, work at the new house was well underway. Dean and Cas agreed that all they really needed to move formally move in was a bedroom and bathroom, so Dean started there, going in early to the office and then getting to the house by early afternoon to work for a few hours. He did all the demolition and prep work; while the carpenters were framing in the new bathroom and redoing the walls in their upstairs suite, Dean got to work on the kitchen. The next few weeks were crazy: he left the sink in place, but removed everything around it. The stove and refrigerator would stay temporarily, but he ripped out the cabinets around them. It looked for awhile as though they were squatting in a demolition project, but by the time Cas returned home from his first short tour, both the kitchen and the dining room extensions were framed in and starting to look like a house again. 

Cas went off again less than a week later - another tour with the ensemble, this time in Florida. They were appearing with the symphony orchestra in Tallahassee for a couple of concerts, and several other performances in the area. This time they were planning to be gone for almost three weeks, and Dean found himself grateful that there was so much work to do on the house, to keep him busy. He tried not to think about all those days and nights without Cas. 

 

Dean started awake at the buzzing from his phone on the nightstand. 

“Uhhh… h’lo?” 

_“Dean? Oh dear, it’s too early again, isn’t it?”_ Cas’ gravelly voice sounded much too cheery and energetic. _“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I have so much trouble remembering about the time difference.”_

Dean groaned and pulled the comforter over his head. “Morning, sunshine. What the hell time is it there? You sound ungodly happy to be awake.” 

Cas’ chuckle floated down the line, and Dean smiled in response. _“It’s not quite nine in the morning.”_

“Ugh, that means it’s…” Dean raised up just far enough to see the clock and made a face. “It’s not even six a.m., you weirdo.” 

_“I know, I’m so sorry, love. I’ll hang up and call later. I’m sorry, go back to sleep.”_ He did sound sorry, and Dean rolled over onto his back, chuckling. 

“Nah, I’m awake now, might as well talk to you.” 

_“Oh well, since you have nothing better to do, thank you so much.”_ Cas’ voice sounded warm; Dean could hear the smile, could almost see his eyes twinkling at him, and he sighed, his own smile fading a little. 

“Man, I sure wish you were here giving me a bad time. I miss you, buddy.” 

_“I miss you too.”_

“You better. Hey, how are things going? How’s the tour?” 

_“It’s going quite well.”_ Cas’ voice brightened. _“We’ve been at or near sell-out for every concert, it’s been very satisfying. We’ve been talking about pieces we’d like to work up for next season.”_

“Wow, next season, you guys must be doing great. I’m really proud of you, Cas.” Dean did his best to sound happy, but he couldn’t help feeling a little melancholy at the thought of Cas already making plans for another tour. 

It was quiet for a moment, then Dean heard Cas’ long sigh. _“I know it’s hard. I hate it too. I’m having a great time, we sound better every performance and the audiences seem to enjoy what we’re doing. I just…”_ He trailed off, and Dean started to speak. 

“Hey Cas, it’s okay, I know you’re…”

Cas spoke over him, sounding thoughtful and a little sad. _“In the evening, though, I come back to the hotel and it’s quiet and there’s nobody else around, and I miss you so much.”_ He sighed again, and Dean winced. 

“I know what you mean. Y’know, as much as I love our house, all the stuff we’ve done to it together, I almost hate coming home when you’re gone. It’s just this big empty place, it reminds me of… y’know.” 

_“I know. I wish…”_ Cas trailed off again, sounding unhappy. Dean sat up in bed, pulling pillows behind him. He frowned at the phone. 

“Listen, Cas, it’s okay, it really is. I know it’s tough, it’s harder than I thought it’d be, but I’d hate the thought of you not doing this because I’m unhappy about it. I like thinking about you traveling around making music and having a good time. That’s who you are, y’know? That’s what you do. I’m happier about that than I’m unhappy because I miss you.” 

There was a long silence, long enough that Dean started nervously twisting the edge of the sheet in his fingers. Finally, Cas cleared his throat. 

_“I love you so much. Thank you, Dean. Thanks for knowing how much this means to me.”_ His voice was huskier than usual. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“Well, I do know that. I love you too, y’know.” 

Cas laughed, a warm sound that made Dean smile too. _“I do know that. I’m sorry to hit and run, but I should go finish getting ready. We’re rehearsing a new piece this morning, hoping to perform it tonight if at all possible.”_

“Wow, sounds great. I wish I could hear you guys now that you’ve been out on the road for awhile. I’ll bet you sound amazing.” 

Cas hummed speculatively. _“Yes, we’re really clicking together well. I’m sure we’ll be giving a concert when we return.”_

“Which is, what, another ten days or so?” 

_“Yes, something like that. It sounds like a long time, doesn’t it?”_

“Yeah, it does.” Dean rubbed his forehead. “Hey, have fun today, okay? Break a leg, or whatever I’m supposed to say to concert musicians.” 

Cas laughed again. _“Lucky I sit in a chair to play. Go back to sleep. I’ll call you tonight after the concert.”_

“I might as well get up now, maybe go for a run before I have to go in. Yeah, give me a call. Love you, buddy.” 

_“Me too. Talk to you tonight.”_ There was a sharp click, and Dean sat for a long time gazing out the window, phone pressed to his chest. 

 

 

Dean was out on the back deck in the early evening, sweeping up the mess from the carpenters’ work, when the phone rang again. 

“Hey. How’d it go?” 

_“Wonderfully well. We performed the new piece and it was very well received. Excellent crowd.”_ Cas’ voice was higher-pitched than usual, he was speaking rapidly and energetically, and Dean couldn’t help chuckling a little. _“What? Are you laughing at me?”_

“Yeah, kinda. You sound really excited.” 

Cas huffed a laugh. _“I suppose I am. I’m always energized after a good performance.”_

“I know that about you. Wish I was there to benefit from it.” Cas made another amused noise, and Dean snickered. 

_“Ah yes, post-concert sex. My favorite.”_

“Wow, really? Hmmm, I’ll have to remember that.” Dean sighed and leaned on the wall behind him. “We need to change the subject or I’m gonna have to go take a shower.” 

Cas hummed, a low growling noise that made Dean squirm. _“Wish you were here too. So, what are you doing if you’re not taking a shower?”_

“Cleaning up the deck. The guys were here this afternoon finishing up. I might have time to put all the furniture back tonight. It’s looking really good. The painters finished in the kitchen too, the color’s perfect. And the new dining set’s being delivered tomorrow.” 

_“I won’t know the place when I get home. It sounds wonderful, Dean.”_

“I want to get all the little stuff done so I can have the new furniture and everything in by the time you get home. Lotta work left but I think it’s doable.” 

_“Don’t make that a priority, Dean. You’re so busy, don’t put yourself under that kind of deadline. I don’t mind if it’s not done, you know that. It will be eventually.”_

“I know, but I want it to be perfect for you. I want you to just walk in - wait, did you want to do it with me? Sorry, I didn’t mean to take over. I can wait, honest.” 

Cas was laughing before Dean finished. _“No, no, that’s fine. I picked out most of the furniture and the paint colors, I don’t mind if someone else does the work.”_

Dean frowned. “Are you sure? Seriously, I can wait, Cas. I was just sorta bulldozing ahead, you know how I get. I didn’t mean to - I should have asked.” 

He could hear the fondness in Cas’ voice. _“You love doing this so much, how can I refuse you? I can’t wait to walk in and see our home.”_

“Yeah, that’s - that’s what I want to do, have you walk in and see it in all its glory.” Dean grinned happily. “Can’t wait to see your face, you’re gonna love it.” 

_“I know I will. Um, I have a question for you.”_

“Shoot.” 

_“Are you - what’s your workload like next week? Are you busy?”_

“Um, about the same as usual. Why?” 

_“No reason, just wondering.”_ Cas yawned suddenly. _“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. It’s not that late.”_ He yawned again, and Dean laughed at him. 

“Wow, I’ll try not to be offended. Maybe you should crash early?” 

Cas sighed. _“Probably a good idea. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”_

“Absolutely. Maybe not at o-dark-thirty like this morning?” Cas chuckled, and Dean closed his eyes, smiling. 

_“All right, I’ll remember to check the time before I call. Have a good night, Dean. I love you.”_

“Love you too, Cas. Be safe.” 

.

Dean was up and about early the next morning; when he arrived at Singer Design he had to unlock the door, since no one else was in yet. Frowning, he looked up at the clock on the wall in the reception area: not even seven o’clock yet. 

“Good god, Winchester, this is crazy even for you,” he muttered as he opened his office door and flipped on the lights. By the time sounds of his colleagues arriving filtered into his awareness, he was deep into drafting sketches for their latest job. Jo popped her head in the door. 

“Early again? Are you feeling okay?” 

Dean grinned sheepishly. “I know, it’s weird, huh? I’ve just, I dunno, been waking up early, I guess. Figured I might as well come in and get some work done before you lot start making noise.” 

Jo gave him a half-smile, and managed to frown at the same time. “You sleeping okay? Cas is out of town, right?” 

Dean made a face. “Yeah, he’s still touring. Few more days. And yeah, I’m sleeping fine, I feel good. Got to sleep early, I guess.” 

“No sex, that’s what does it. You’re not staying awake bumping uglies till all hours.” 

“Jo, Christ! Were you always this vulgar?” Dean glared at her, trying to ignore the heat coming up in his face. She snorted with laughter. 

“Duh. Have you _met_ me?” She laughed again when Dean shot her his middle finger, and started when Bobby came up behind her. 

“All right, you two, contrary to popular belief I’m not actually paying you to stand around making rude gestures. Back to work!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Later, Dean.” Jo winked and slipped off down the hall. Dean scowled after her, and up at Bobby. 

“I was working, and she came along and, and _harassed_ me!” 

“Uh-huh.” Bobby looked skeptical. He pointed down at Dean’s sketches, spread out on the drafting table. “How’s that coming?” 

“Pretty good, actually, I’ve got some ideas for modifying things a little, to save some weight and maybe some money too.” 

“Sounds good, keep it up. Hoping to see a draft tomorrow or the next day?” Bobby looked at him questioningly. 

“Yeah, should have something ready by morning.” 

“Good, thanks, Dean.” Bobby started to turn away, and then stopped. “Oh, by the way, I approved your vacation days for next week, no problem. Enjoy yourself.” He gave Dean a half-smile, and Dean frowned, puzzled. 

“What vacation days?” 

“The ones you asked for. Payroll got your request, and I approved it.” Bobby gave him his _I can’t believe you have a college education_ look, and turned away, leaving Dean gaping after him. _That...makes no sense at all_ , he thought, scratching at his jaw in puzzlement. He was still sitting there blinking when a knock on his open door startled him. 

“Document delivery, Mr. Winchester!” Dean looked up at the cheery voice of Andy, their regular Zen Delivery man, clipboard in hand. “How are ya, Dean?” 

“Fine, I guess. What’s that?” Dean got up and held out his hand for the clipboard, trying to rearrange his expression so he didn’t look as grumpy as he felt. 

“Well now, as you know I am prevented by law from actually looking at the documents I deliver. That would be a terrible breach of privacy, wouldn’t it?” Andy grinned at him, and Dean rolled his eyes. 

“And yet…” 

“And yet I can report that it looks like a plane ticket envelope. American, I think.” 

Dean stared at him. “You can identify…? Never mind, I don’t wanna know, I’d have to report your sorry ass to the - I dunno, the courier oversight committee.” He grinned back at Andy, who laughed out loud. 

“Yeah, three strikes and I’m out. Anyway, sign here, pal, I gotta get back to work.” 

“Gee, that’ll be a first.” Dean scribbled his name and tossed the board to Andy, who pulled the envelope off the clipboard and tossed it back. 

“Where are you going? Someplace warm and fun?” 

Dean remembered he didn’t actually make any reservations, and went back to frowning. “I have no idea. Somebody put in a request for days off for me next week too. Weird, huh?” 

Andy waggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly. “I dunno, big guy, it sounds like a romantic tryst to me. But you do you.” He winked and went off down the hall, whistling. 

Dean stared down at the envelope for a second, and then tore into it, nearly dropping it in his haste. He fumbled the smaller envelope out of it - sure enough, an American Airlines ticket envelope, for a flight to Tallahassee early next week. _What the hell_ … And then he remembered: Cas and his ensemble were performing with the Tallahassee symphony orchestra. This was from Cas. 

Dean fumbled his phone out of his pocket and hit speed dial; the minute he heard Cas’ voice he started talking, _what the hell, Cas, what are you planning, you sneaky bastard??_ , and it was only when he heard the beep that he realized it wasn’t Cas, just his voicemail prompt. By that time he was wound down just a little, enough to leave a slightly more coherent message. He hung up smiling, shaking his head and suddenly feeling much better. He took a moment to make a note in his calendar app, and sat down to work again, still smiling. 


	18. Chapter 18

By the time Dean’s flight landed in Tallahassee it was nearly dark, and he was so tired he had to make a couple of tries before he could actually get out of his seat. The only thing that kept him stumbling along was knowing that Cas was waiting for him. He was already smiling when Dean spotted him in the waiting area. 

“Hey. Boy, am I glad to see you.” He leaned into Cas and hugged him tightly. 

“Mmm. Bad time on the flight?” 

“Nah, not really. I mean, you know me, I’m always nervous in the air, but it wasn’t so bad.” 

“Maybe you’re getting better?” 

“Or I was so tired I couldn’t work up a head of steam about it.” 

Cas frowned at him. “Are you feeling all right? Why are you so tired?” 

Dean stifled a yawn. “Got up early this morning, and it’s like an eleven hour trip with the stops.” 

“Hmmm.” Cas was looking at him with concern, and Dean raised his eyebrows. “What?” 

“Nothing, just worrying about you, I suppose. Our next flight leaves in less than an hour. Do you want to grab a quick bite before we go?” 

“Um, sure. How long’s the next flight?” 

“About five hours. I’m sure they’ll feed us aboard, I just don’t want you to starve in the meantime.” Cas smirked. 

“Five _hours??_ Okay, wise guy, spill. Where are we going?” 

Instead of answering, Cas smiled smugly and handed Dean a brochure. 

“What the - Grand Cayman Island? Seriously?” 

“Absolutely. We’ll be there for a couple of days. So do you want a sandwich or something?” Cas looked like he was just barely restraining a smile from breaking out, and Dean laughed and hugged him again, planting a wet kiss on Cas’ cheek.

“You’re the best, buddy. Let’s go find that sandwich.” 

.

They had just started to eat when their flight was called. Fortunately, Cas had found a sandwich shop in the American Airlines gate area, and they managed to gulp down their food in time to board. To Dean’s surprise, Cas tugged on his shirt before they could move through the first class section, and indicated a pair of seats a few rows from the front. 

“What? First class?” Dean grinned delightedly. “Wow, this is already the best vacation ever.” 

Cas winked. “I thought you might like that. How do you feel about a glass of champagne, or maybe some Scotch?” 

Dean looked up to see a flight attendant looking down at him questioningly. “Uh, wow, yeah, Scotch would be great. The good stuff, right?” 

“Of course, sir. I’ll bring that to you right after we take off.” She bustled off down the aisle, and Dean grunted. 

“Ugh. Take off. I was hoping to have a drink before then.” 

Cas took his hand. “I know. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about the house. How far along are you with the work?” 

Dean’s face relaxed into a bright smile. “Oh yeah, it’s done, mostly. They’re finishing the floors - well, hopefully it was done today, for sure by tomorrow. Sam’s gonna meet the delivery truck the next day and let ‘em in with the last of the furniture. There’ll be a lot of little things left to do, but it’s all, y’know, cosmetic, finishing-up stuff. It’ll look great when you walk in, I promise.” 

Cas looked at him fondly. “I have no doubt about that. Were you able to get somebody in to dig up the back yard?” 

“Yeah, he was there yesterday. Ripped out all that stuff you didn’t want, tore up what was left of the grass, it’s ready for you. I was going to try to mark off the spaces you drew up, the spot where the raised beds’ll be, and the trees you want, but I decided you need to do that. I’m afraid I’ll screw it up.” Dean slanted a grin at Cas, who squeezed his hand. 

“Thank you. I mean, I’m sure you’d do fine, but I really want to do that part.” 

Dean smiled, turning in his seat a little so he could face Cas. “I was pretty sure that’s what you wanted. I hope it’ll be dry enough to work with when we get back.” 

“It should be fine. I just need to be able to dig and rearrange soil, set up the planter boxes, that sort of thing. Unless it’s pouring down rain it should be fine. I’m getting excited about putting in a new garden.” 

Dean bumped shoulders with Cas and was about to answer when the flight attendant’s voice interrupted him. 

“Here you are, sir, your Scotch, and a list of our first-class meals. I’ll be back in a few minutes and you both can tell me what you want.” She nodded and moved on, leaving Dean with his mouth half-open. 

“Uh, y-yeah, th - We’re in the air??” He peered past Cas out the window, to see lights below them. “Well, I’ll be damned.” 

Cas laughed at him. “That was pretty painless.” 

“Yeah it was. I oughta fly with you more often.” Dean leaned over to kiss Cas’ cheek, and raised his glass. “To smooth flights and good Scotch.” 

“I’ll drink to that.” They clinked their glasses and drank. 

 

Dean was dreaming, running down the beach toward the blue-green water, feeling the air like a warm caress on his bare chest. He could feel the sand under his feet, soft and fine as sugar. He sighed, smiling dreamily and turning his head at a touch on his arm. He opened his eyes slowly. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey. Sorry to wake you, we’ll be landing in a few minutes.” 

“Oh wow.” Dean shook his head a few times, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them wide. “Already?” 

“Yes.” Dean could hear Cas chuckling as he answered, and made a face. 

“You laughing at me, pal?” 

“Only a little.” Cas squeezed his arm. “You must have been tired. You slept like a log. I must say you looked like you were having a lovely dream.” 

Dean could feel his cheeks heat up. “I was having a preview of the beach, I guess. Are we staying near the water?” 

“Yes, I think so. This particular hotel is small, it’s mostly little cabins very near the beach. Cabanas? Huts? Anyway, fairly private, near the water. It’s a little outside the main town but not too far away.” 

“I can’t wait.” Dean gazed out the window. It was still fairly dark, but he could make out the dark shadow of a land mass off to the left, and open water below them. “Is that Cuba?” 

“Yes, I think so. Grand Cayman is a short flight south of Cuba.” Cas was watching him with a little smile on his face, and Dean turned to look back at him. 

“What are you smiling at?” He couldn’t help smiling back. 

Cas leaned forward and planted a kiss on Dean’s mouth: soft, warm, with a promise of more later. “I’m very happy we’re here. I know it’s only a couple of days, but I really needed to get away with you.” 

“You, my friend, are brilliant. You’re definitely the brains of this outfit.” Dean moved closer for another kiss, smiling all the while. “I can’t wait to sit on the beach with something rum-related in a glass.” He grinned as Cas chuckled. 

 

By the time they worked their way through the George Town airport and out to the street, the sun was nearly up. Dean dropped his bag and pulled in a deep breath. 

“God, that smells good.” 

Cas grinned at him. “What, taxi exhaust?” 

“No, you grump. The salt water. Some kind of tropical flowery thing. Rum.” 

“You’re hallucinating, Dean. You can’t smell rum.” 

Dean smiled benignly. “Maybe not, but I bet there’s some nearby.” 

“I hope there’s breakfast nearby too. I’m starving.” Cas stepped to the curb and signaled to a taxi pulling up from the street. 

“Yeah, me too. Should we stop somewhere?” 

Cas nodded to the cabbie, hoisting their bags into the trunk. "Why don’t we head for the hotel and see if they’ll let us check in? We’ll get rid of our things, and I’m sure they’ll be able to feed us. Then we can just head back to the room for a nap, if you want.” 

“Nap, hell. I intend to hit the beach as soon as humanly possible. C’mon, buddy, let’s get this Caribbean adventure started!” Dean tugged at Cas’ shirt sleeve, grinning irrepressibly as they scrambled into the cab. 

 

Dean splashed his way out of the water, heading toward the beach umbrella and the two chairs set up in its shade. Cas was sprawled in one of the chairs, his head leaned back against the headrest. His sunglasses were on, but Dean would have bet anything Cas was napping. He tested his theory by standing over Cas and shaking his head vigorously, like a wet dog. Cold sea water sprayed everywhere, and Cas bolted upright, gasping, glasses, askew. 

“Dean! Oh my god, what… You’re soaked!” Cas glared up at Dean’s laughing face. 

“Well, I couldn’t figure out how to go swimming without getting wet.” Dean chuckled and dropped to his knees, leaning in and planting a kiss on Cas’ angry face. After a second Cas made a growling sound in his throat and kissed him back; a second later they were both grinning. 

“All right, beach boy, you’re forgiven.” Cas smiled warmly. “Are you ready for something to eat?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Let’s go get showered, I think I have sand in some private parts.” 

“Ah yes, the perils of playing on the beach. Do you need help with that?” Cas’ eyes darkened, and Dean sucked in a breath. 

“Yeah, definitely.” Dean pulled Cas out of the chair and into an embrace, pressing tightly together. “Should we drag the chairs back up to the cabin?” 

“No, they’re fine here.” Cas’ mouth moved slowly, carefully along the side of Dean’s head, his breath moving lightly over Dean’s ear, across his cheek. Dean let out a long breath. 

“W-what are you doing?” 

Cas huffed. “Clearly I’m not doing it very well, if you have to ask.” He blew softly into Dean’s ear, and Dean made a tiny, high-pitched noise in his throat. Cas chuckled. 

“Are you all right?” 

Dean took a second to breath in and out a couple of times. “I think so, but i was thinking in order to be sure we should probably head f-for - aaahhh, Cas - for the room? Now, maybe?” 

Cas’ mouth pressed against Dean’s, gently and then more urgently. Dean felt the tip of Cas’ tongue against his. He sighed, humming and smiling into the kiss. 

“Yes.” Cas grinned in return. “Now. Yes.” 

 

Dean blinked awake, the late-afternoon sun falling across his face. He started to roll over and ran into an obstacle: Cas, completely buried under the sheets, lay curled up with his face pressed against Dean’s ribs. Dean lay back again, one arm wrapped around Cas’ head and resting on his back. His fingertips drifted slowly back and forth between Cas’ shoulder blades, barely grazing the warm skin. His eyes were drifting shut again when a wave, signaling the incoming tide, crashed onto the beach a few feet away. Cas stirred and mumbled, rubbing his face against Dean. Dean squeaked and squirmed away from the stubble scraping along his side. 

“Hey!” 

Cas, still mostly covered by the sheets, chuckled. “Yes, Dean?” 

Dean slid down under the sheets until he was face to face with Cas, who was grinning at him. “You rascal. You’re pretty frisky for somebody who hasn’t really slept in the last two days.” 

Cas hummed and slid closer, smiling into a kiss. “Actually, I was thinking a little food might be good. Did you know the pool has a swim-up bar? Drinks, food, all in our swimsuits.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Not at all. You want to try it?” 

Dean looked into Cas’ smiling face and laughed out loud. “Sure, why not? We can do whatever we want, right?” 

“For a couple of days, yes.” Cas moved forward enough to plant a kiss on Dean’s mouth. “We can eat whenever we want, swim up to the bar and drink all day, we can go to the turtle farm and swim with the turtles. We can stay in our swim trunks the whole time.” Another kiss, a slow one. “Or we don’t have to do any of that. We can stay right here.” 

Dean slid his fingers into Cas’ soft dark hair, holding Cas’ head gently and kissing him back. “Won’t we need food every once in awhile?” 

“You have heard of room service, yes?” Cas ran a hand through Dean’s hair, fingers drifting down the side of Dean’s face, thumb stroking one eyebrow. 

Dean hummed, smiling. “Man, I must have done something pretty awesome in a previous life, because you are one amazing reward.” He leaned into another kiss, trying and failing to keep from smiling through it. 

Cas chuckled. “I’m just getting started.” He closed his eyes, burying his face in Dean’s neck and snuggling as close as he possibly could. Dean wrapped his arms around him, and they both let out long, contented sighs. The soft thump and murmur of the waves lulled them back into sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

Coming home from a tropical vacation felt a little like re-entering the atmosphere after a visit to another planet. Looking out the window as his flight descended into the wet-looking gray cloud cover over Seattle, Dean found himself mentally wandering along the beach, swimming with turtles the size of Volkswagens, hearing the sound of the ocean under everything. Instead of warm, salty breezes and bright sun, and Cas’ hand always in his, he was coming back by himself, leaving Cas in Florida to finish the ensemble’s tour. 

Home alone in the cool damp of a Seattle spring, Dean couldn’t help feeling a little blue. To his surprise, he’d found plenty of sand in his suitcase when he unpacked - surprising, since neither of them had worn much in the way of clothing on the island. He scooped it together as best he could and poured it into a small dish, together with a few tiny shells he’d found while they were snorkeling. It sat on top of their dresser, a visual reminder of two days in paradise. He checked the calendar again: Cas’ flight was due right after lunch the next day. Dean smiled and let out a long breath, ready for the separation to be over. 

 

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean recognized that he was pacing nervously, compulsively; every few seconds he glanced up at the Delta arrival reader board, as though it might have changed from five seconds earlier. He hated when anybody else did this, but he couldn’t seem to help it. Finally, he heard the PA system click on, announcing the arrival of Cas’ flight. He stopped pacing, but only so he could stand near the exit area from the concourse, restlessly shifting his weight back and forth, scanning the faces of people coming out of the gate area, hands in his pockets jingling his keys, for god’s sake. 

After about twenty minutes he was rewarded: Cas, tired-looking but smiling, coming toward him. Dean grinned and gave a little wave. 

“Hey you! You made it!” 

“Dean.” Cas kept walking, coming right up to him and leaning against him, face pressed into Dean’s neck. “I can’t even tell you how glad I am to be home. I’m so tired.” He let out a long sigh; Dean could feel the tension leaving Cas’ body. Dean tightened his arms, rocking a little and humming. 

“I gotcha, buddy. Let’s get you home.” 

“Just - give me just a minute.” 

Dean chuckled and leaned his cheek against Cas’ head, the unruly hair tickling his nose. “Just say when.” 

Cas sighed and straightened up. He was smiling ruefully. “I think I must be getting old. These cross-country flights are getting difficult to tolerate. I had to get up before seven this morning to finish packing and have breakfast before the flight.” 

“And that was before four o’clock here. Ugh.” Dean pulled the garment bag off Cas’ shoulder. “Anything else? You want me to carry the cello?” 

“No, I’ve got that. Maybe this?” Cas held up his messenger bag, which Dean knew from experience was stuffed full almost beyond capacity. He snorted. 

“Yeah, sure, make the boyfriend carry the heavy stuff. I see how it is.” 

Cas smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” 

Dean laughed and hugged Cas one-armed as he relieved him of the bag. “You know I can’t refuse you.” He planted a kiss on Cas’ forehead, holding on tight for one more second. “Sure am glad you’re back, the house is so empty without you.” He pulled back, feeling his eyes prickle. Cas was looking at him, his face still and serious. “What?” 

“Nothing, I -” Cas shook his head abruptly, looking sheepish. “I missed you so much, and our house. I want to see it so badly.” 

Dean flushed, turning to start the walk down to baggage claim and pulling Cas along with him. “I did a little more cleaning up and finishing touches yesterday. Oh, and I was out in the garden this morning, I think it’s ready for you to start digging, when you’re up to it.”

Cas bumped shoulders with him. “I’m sure I will be, after a good night’s sleep. Hurry up and get me there! I’m ready to have something to eat and a drink by the fireplace, and _sleep_.” He nudged Dean again. 

“Oh. Oh, um… yeah, sure.” Dean bit his lip and looked away. Cas regarded him silently, a worried little line between his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Dean’s ears went pink. “Well, I wasn’t sure if you meant _sleep_ -sleep, or…” He trails off, refusing to look Cas in the eye. 

Cas snorted. “Either, or both. Both is good.” Dean smirked at him, and shifted what he was carrying to one arm so he could grab Cas around the shoulders with his other arm. 

“All right then. Let’s get your suitcase and get outta here.” 

 

With Cas finally home to stay, it was only a few days before they were back into the rhythm of their life. Every day the light stayed around a little later in the evening, and Cas shuffled his schedule around so he could come home by mid-afternoon several times a week. He was up to his elbows in the damp earth of the backyard every evening when Dean got home. By mid-April the garden was taking shape, tiny green spikes coming up in all the flower beds and the tiny patch of grass Dean felt obscurely was necessary in order to call it a yard. They decided it would be in shape enough by Memorial Day for an official housewarming party. 

Against all odds, the weather was perfect all weekend: light breeze, a few puffy white clouds, warmer than normal temperatures. Dean was ready with canopies and patio umbrellas stored in the shed, but Sunday dawned bright and beautiful. By noon everybody was starting to arrive, and the grill was smoking within the hour. Dean flipped burgers and stirred the basket full of vegetables, humming happily. This was his favorite kind of party: surrounded by his big, patchwork family, feeding them and loving their company. Every few minutes Cas circled by, squeezing his arm or planting a kiss on his cheek. Dean blushed and ducked his head every time, still not used to it and determined not to take it for granted. 

He scooped up the last burger and a pile of roasted veggies onto a plate for himself, and squeezed into a seat beside Cas. He chomped and sipped beer and listened to the conversations swirling around him, content to bask. He was washing the last bite down with a gulp of beer when Cas nudged him. Dean nodded, wiping his hands. 

“Okay, okay, everybody, pipe down!” Dean tapped his fork on a water glass until the hubbub died down and everybody turned to look at him expectantly. 

“Thanks for coming, you guys. I wanted you all to see how the house turned out, especially you, Jo, and you, Lisa.” He smiled at them, surprised at the lump in his throat. “Um, we really appreciate everything you both did to make this happen. We love this place, so - thanks.” He gulped, took a sip of his beer, his eyes seeking Cas’ for a moment. 

“So anyway, thanks for coming, and I hope you brought your bathing suits ‘cause Cas is gonna fire up the hot tub a little later and I don’t want to see any of your naked butts in my hot tub.” He glared pointedly at Ash, who blew a raspberry at him. Everybody laughed, and Dean dropped into his seat. 

“Well, if you’re done talkin’ I’ll take my turn.” Bobby got to his feet, frowning down at his plate. Several seconds went by in silence, and Dean looked over at Ellen questioningly. She gave him a shaky smile, and squeezed Bobby’s hand. He grunted a little, making a face at her. 

“Okay. I’ve been thinking about this awhile, ‘n this seems like a good time to bring it up. I’m planning to retire.” There was a general chorus of noise, and he waved his hand. “Shut yer yaps, I ain’t done yet. I probably won’t completely retire until next year, but I’ll be more or less part-time for the next several months. I’m sort of stepping back starting right now.” 

“But why? Bobby, are you okay?” Dean stared up at him, feeling a cold chill up the back of his neck. Cas rested a hand on Dean’s leg. 

“I’m all right, son. My doc says a lifetime of not taking care of myself is catching up with me, that’s all. It’s time to take it easy if I’m gonna be able to enjoy those golden years everybody always talks about.” Bobby smiled at him lopsidedly. 

“There’s gonna be a few other changes at the office. We’re gearing up for a busy summer, and prob’ly into next fall and winter too. There’s a couple of big contracts coming up, and a major design job I just signed the papers on. Ash, this is right up your alley. It’s a light and sound installation at Benaroya Hall.” Cas brightened up and looked over at Ash, who was grinning from ear to ear. 

“Sounds great, boss. When do I start?” 

Bobby smiled. “I need you and Dean to sit down with me and we’ll start going through it, maybe next week sometime, get started brainstorming.” 

“Me??” Dean looked sharply at Ash and back to Bobby. “This sounds like a job for Superman over there. What do you need me for?” 

Bobby smiled gently at him. “Because, kiddo, the projects manager needs to be in on the preliminary stuff, you know that.” 

There was a long silence before Dean could find his voice. “What?” 

“Movin’ on up, son. There’s even a bigger office in it for ya. What do you say?” Bobby was grinning, Cas hugged him, Ash cheered, everybody started talking at once - and it was still a couple of seconds before Dean realized Bobby had just promoted him. He knew he was blushing and was pretty sure he was going to cry, but he managed to get to his feet and move around the table to grab Bobby in a fierce hug. When Dean was sure he could trust his voice he let Bobby go, one hand resting on the old man’s shoulder. 

“Well, I hate that you won’t be around so much. How’m I gonna do all this without you?” Dean wiped his eyes and tried to smile. 

“You’ll do fine, Dean. You’re ready for this, more than ready.” Bobby smiled crookedly at him. “And I’m not that far away, my phone still works.” 

Dean huffed. “Well, I’ll do my best to live up to you.” They shook hands, and everybody clapped. 

“Wait a second, am I gonna have to work for you??” Jo exclaimed, an outraged look on her face. 

“Yep, get used to it, half-pint. You may call me sir.” Dean blew a kiss at her, chuckling at her theatrical groan. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Congrats, Dean. And I have an announcement of my own.” He smiled shyly as Jess took his hand. “Actually, _we_ have an announcement.” 

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” Ellen all but screamed. “Don’t tell me!” 

“Yep.” Sam was blushing, and Jess laughed at him, shaking her head. “We’re adding on to the family tree.” 

Pandemonium ensued, everyone taking turns thumping Sam on the back and hugging Jess carefully. Finally Ellen yelled for quiet. 

“Pipe down, gramma has the floor! So when will this little angel arrive?” 

“Early to mid-October, they tell us. It sounds like a long time.” Jess looked wistful, and Ellen smiled at her reassuringly. 

“Trust me, sweet girl, it’ll get here faster than you think. Any idea what flavor you’re getting?” 

There was general laughter, and Jess rolled her eyes. “No, and I don’t want to know. Sam’s been trying to talk me into having the test. I figure we might get a glimpse when I have an ultrasound later on, and if not then it’ll be a nice surprise.” Sam sighed and looked at her ruefully. “Sorry, honey.” 

“Nah, I can wait. It’s not like we have to decide right now whether to paint the room pink or blue.” 

“Oh my god, Samuel Winchester, you are not putting gender-specific colors in our child’s bedroom!” Jess scowled fiercely. 

Dean sat smiling and blinking back tears, and Sam’s gaze met his. “Congratulations, brother. I’m really happy for you guys. This is gonna be fun, right, Cas?” 

“Absolutely. I’m looking forward to spoiling this child rotten.” Cas grinned at Sam’s groan. 

“Oh god, you guys are gonna be the fun uncles, aren’t you? The kids’ll all want to play at your house and eat candy and stay up all night.” Sam scowled at Dean amid general laughter.

“Damn right.” Dean started a little when his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pushed himself to his feet. “Get used to it!” He stuck his tongue at Jess, and stepped into the house away from the noise to take the call. 

Cas was leaning across the table to hear Jess describing their most recent doctor visit, a smile on his face, when he looked up at Dean coming back outside. His expression changed as he saw Dean’s face, and he got to his feet quickly. 

“Dean? What is it? Who was that on the phone?” 

Dean looked up at him, pale and shocked. “That was - it was Dorothy, she’s at the hospital. Charlie…” 

“Oh god.” Garth got up and hurried toward Dean. “What happened, Dean, is she hurt? Dean?” 

Dean gave himself a shake, trying to focus on Garth’s face. “She was - It was that guy. God, it’s been so long since -” He stopped to pull himself together, grateful for Cas’ hand on his his shoulder. “Charlie was attacked leaving the Market a little while ago. She was probably on her way here.” He gave Cas an anguished look. “She got a good look at the guy, he practically threw her down the steps but she saw his face. Dorothy said she gave a detailed description to the police. They’ve got a good sketch. It sounds like the same lowlife that was attacking people before. It’s been so long I’d pretty much forgotten. I guess I hoped he’d moved on.” 

“Oh god, Dean. How bad is it?” Garth sounded pretty shaky. 

“Um… She said a broken arm, lots of bruises and scrapes. She’s pretty shaken up. She didn’t hit her head, no internal injuries so they’re gonna let her go home pretty soon. They’ll be putting up the sketch around the Market and the neighborhood so people can keep an eye out.” 

Dean looked at Garth and then Cas, the unspoken fear hanging in the air.


	20. Chapter 20

It was almost dark when Dean and Cas entered the hospital. Dean approached the front desk. 

“Visitors’ hours are just about over, sir.” The woman behind the desk looked up at him questioningly. 

“Maybe just for a few minutes? My friend Charlie came in tonight, Charlie Bradbury? Please, just for a minute, I promise we won’t stay long.” Dean gave her his best pleading look, and she sighed. 

“All right, all right, just for a minute. Poor girl, I’m sure she’d appreciate it.” Her fingers moved quickly on the computer keyboard in front of her. “Here we are, she’s in room 303. Five minutes.” She glared up at them, and Dean thanked her in a rush before she could change her mind. 

 

Dean knocked softly on the door to 303, and Cas pushed it slowly open. They stopped in the doorway and peered inside, a little reluctant to rush in. Dean clenched one hand into a fist at the sight of Charlie: 

She was sitting up in the bed, Dorothy sitting on the far side holding her free hand. Charlie’s other arm, in a cast from her upper arm down past her wrist, rested in a sling. There was an ugly bruise developing across one cheekbone. She watched them approach the bed, eyes huge in her white face. 

“Ah shit, Charlie.” Dean’s voice broke; he rested a hand on her feet, under the blanket. 

“Charlie, I’m so sorry.” Cas’ voice was gentle. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. That was all it took: her face crumpled, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. She leaned into Cas, one sob escaping her throat. Dorothy gripped her hand in both of hers. 

Dean had never felt so helpless in his life. “Charlie, it’s okay, you’re all right. You’re safe,” he whispered, leaning down to rest his hand on her knee. She took a long, shaky breath. 

“I’m okay, really.” She tried to smile up at them both. “It doesn’t even hurt that much. I’m just - it feels sort of unreal.” 

“What happened, Charlie?” Cas crouched down so he could look up at her face. 

Dorothy stirred, frowning slightly; Charlie made a face, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “It’s all right, sweetie. I don’t mind.” She looked back around at them. 

“I’d just packed up for the day, I was pushing the hand truck out the entrance at the end, and - I’m not sure what he did, stuck his foot under the wheel or something, and it kinda jerked around to the side. I looked up, he was right there not three feet away, I could see his face so clearly. I yelled something like, what the hell dude? And he shoved the hand truck back into me, that’s what broke m-my arm,” she stirred uncomfortably, shifting in the bed. 

“Anyway, I screamed, I guess, and I may have called him a bad name, and he bashed me across the face.” She was glaring now, eyes blazing. “Bastard. Somebody across the street heard me and yelled out something, and the guy ran off. Asshat shouldn’t have let me see him. The sketch artist was here and now there’s a really good picture of him out there.” 

“God.” Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a second. Dorothy sniffled, and Charlie leaned their heads together. 

The door behind them swung open. “Gentlemen, time to go, visiting hours are over.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Dean glanced over at the nurse. “We’ll be right there.” 

Charlie smiled up at him. “I’m okay, Dean, Cas, honest. They’re probably gonna let me outta here tomorrow. Really, I’m fine. Thanks for coming, you guys.” Dean kissed her cheek and rested his hand on Dorothy’s arm for a moment. 

“You okay, D?” 

She nodded shortly. “Mostly, yeah. I’m mad as hell more than anything else.” 

“Yeah, I’m with you there.” Dean frowned, turning his face away for a moment. “It’s not fair, she’s so…” His voice failed, and Dorothy gave him a crooked smile. 

“She sure is. Don’t worry, I’ll look after her.”

“I know you will.” Dean patted Charlie’s foot. “All right, shortie, we’re gonna let you get some rest. See you soon, okay?” 

“You bet. Can’t keep me down.” Charlie managed a wink and settled back into the pillows. Cas kissed her cheek, and the two of them slipped quietly out into the hall. They were almost to the street again before either of them said a word. 

“I’m so glad Charlie isn’t badly hurt.” Cas took Dean’s hand and gave it a squeeze. 

“Yeah, me too. This is getting weird, Cas, this guy keeps going after people at the Market. What the hell??” 

“I know, it’s disturbing. At least the police have a good sketch of him. We’ll all have to stay vigilant.” 

Dean nodded. His eyes scanned the shadows as they walked down the street toward the car. 

 

As on-edge as everyone was after the attack on Charlie, there were no further scares. Whoever the mysterious mugger was, he stayed out of sight all summer. Cas resumed performances at the Market, occasionally with students, or with Dean. The Saturday that Charlie returned to her booth he serenaded her with an old fiddle tune, Red Haired Girl, while she stood blushing and grinning, her face beaming. 

It was a beautiful summer, unusually warm and dry. After a flurry of meetings and brainstorming, Ash had started the design work for Singer’s Benaroya project, and Dean discovered one of the downsides of moving into management was that he was less involved in the design process. But with Bobby gone more than not, Dean stayed busy and still managed to have most weekends off. He and Cas settled into home ownership in earnest; by late August they had painted the exterior of the house, and Cas’ garden was a lush jungle. 

Cas was busier than usual during the summer - he was preparing a small group of students for a special performance at the Market. He planned a medley of rock tunes, with a concerto in the middle of the program. Whenever he wasn’t working up arrangements, he was deep in rehearsals with individuals and the group. It definitely cut into his usual Market performances; he and Dean only played together a couple of times. Dean missed it more than he realized he would, but didn’t say much about it. Cas was full of energy and excitement, talking animatedly over supper every evening about the progress of his musicians, eager and affectionate in bed. Dean decided he was probably getting the best part of the bargain after all. 

The weekend before the concert, Dean’s phone buzzed insistently in the middle of the night. He fumbled with it and squinted at the screen: Bobby. 

“Bobby, whazzit?” 

“ _It’s Jo, son. She’s at the hospital._ ” 

Dean slid out from under Cas’ arm and swung his feet to the floor. “What the hell? Did she get into an accident?” 

There was a long silence. Dean could feel his nerves ratcheting up; the mattress rocked slightly, and he looked over his shoulder at Cas, raised up on one elbow blinking owlishly. Dean raised up one finger and turned back to the phone. 

“Bobby?” 

“ _Yeah, sorry. Uh, Jo was - she was mugged, Dean. She was coming out of a restaurant down near the Market and he hit her from behind._ ” Bobby’s voice broke, and Dean’s hand clenched painfully on his phone. 

“Hang on just a sec, Bobby.” Dean twisted around toward Cas. “It’s Jo. She got beat up, she’s in the hospital.” 

“Oh my god, Dean. How bad?” 

“Not sure yet. Bobby, you still there?” Dean pressed the speaker button on his phone and set it down on the bed. “Cas is here too.” 

“ _I’m here. Hey, Cas. Looks like the guy hit her in the head, kicked in several ribs. She was conscious the whole time, god help her. She got a real good look at him. The cops are convinced it’s the same guy as all the others._ ” 

“Oh god, Bobby. Where is she? Can we see her?” 

Bobby cleared his throat. “ _Nah, not a good idea tonight. Ellen’s there, ‘course, and Jo’s pretty doped up. Kinda sorry I bugged you guys, I know it’s late. I knew you’d wanna know._ ”

“Of course, Bobby, thanks. Uh, I guess call us in the morning?” Dean felt Cas’ hand cover his gently, and squeezed his fingers. 

“ _Yep, will do. I hope to hell the cops are bringin’ their A game. I’m gettin’ good and tired of him scarin’ hell out of everybody all the time._ ” 

“Me too. Bobby, thanks. Give Ellen our love.” 

“ _Will do._ ” Bobby clicked off, and Dean rubbed his face with his free hand. He turned his head and looked over at Cas. 

“Come back to bed, Dean. There’s nothing we can do tonight. Jo is safe, thank god, and we might be able to go see her in the morning. Let’s try to get some rest, all right?” 

Dean tossed his phone on the bedside table, and slid under the covers and into Cas’ waiting arms. He could feel himself shaking all over, and Cas pulled him even closer. 

“It’s going to be all right, Dean. Shh, sh, it’s all right.” 

Dean buried his face in Cas’ shoulder and tried to believe he was right. 

 

Cas’ concert was scheduled for the Sunday of the holiday weekend. After the attack on Jo, there was considerable discussion about whether or not to continue with their plans, but in the end the students themselves made the decision to go ahead. Dean knew Saturday would be mostly rehearsals and last-minute insanity, so he went into Singer Designs for a few hours. Cas called early in the afternoon, sounding exhausted and ready for a break; Dean closed up the office and headed for home, stopping off for dinner ingredients on the way. 

By early evening they were sitting comfortably on the deck, picking at the last of a salmon dinner. Cas leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh, his eyes closing. 

“You okay, buddy?” 

“Yes, wonderful.” Cas smiled dreamily. He rolled his head toward Dean and opened his eyes. “Dinner was perfect, thank you for cooking for me.” 

“You’re welcome.” Dean scooted his chair closer. “You doing okay?” 

“Just tired. It’s been a long few weeks, but they’re ready. I’m really excited for tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, me too. Can’t wait to hear your kids perform, it’s gonna be great. Hey, listen, I was thinking we could go out after, y’know, a celebration dinner or something? What do you think?” 

Cas gazed at him, traces of his smile still on his face. “I would like that very much.” 

“Great.” Dean grinned and got to his feet, unable to sit still. “Let me clear up this mess, you sit still and finish your wine, yeah?” He started stacking plates and gathering silverware. “Be right back.” 

“All right. Thank you, Dean.” Cas dropped back in the chair again, sighing contentedly. Dean dropped a kiss on Cas’ head and went inside. He set the pile of dishes in the sink, turned on hot-water tap and started rinsing and loading everything into the dishwasher, a private smile on his face. He thought of the overnight bag he’d already packed, hidden in the closet; and the bed-and-breakfast overlooking the water, waiting for them. By the time Cas came inside, Dean was singing Traveling Riverside Blues at the top of his voice. He grinned at Cas and grabbed him up in a hug. 

Cas leaned back and peered up at him. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“I’m just feeling good. Looking forward to tomorrow.” 

“So am I.” Cas kissed him firmly. “Let’s finish cleaning up and take a shower. I’m ready to get some rest.” 

“Rest, huh?” Dean smirked. “Is that all?” 

Cas pulled on Dean’s hand, turning toward the stairway. “Far from it.” He smiled as Dean laughed at him. 

“Works for me.” 

 

By afternoon on Sunday the morning clouds had cleared away; the Market hummed with activity. Cas’ students started playing around three and were an instant hit, the stairwell and the open area filling up rapidly. People were lined up around the open landing at the top, the doors to the underground, even outside on the roof of the parking garage. It was a triumph, and Dean, standing near the bottom of the stairway with his back pressed against the wall, was smiling as though he would burst. The music was great, as always, Cas was charming and engaging as ever; and Dean was so proud of Cas he could hardly stand it. 

When Cas announced their last piece, Dean worked his way through the crowd and up the stairs. He and Cas agreed to meet after the performance, up on the street near the stairway, and Dean wanted to check in on Charlie before they left. He found her packing up her table, clearly getting ready to go home. 

“Hey girl, how’s it going? Quitting already?” 

Charlie grinned up at him. “Yeah, the crowd’s getting pretty thin. I think they’re all downstairs listening to the maestro.” She winked. 

Dean grinned happily. “Yeah, they sound fantastic. Cas worked ‘em pretty hard this summer, it really shows.” He looked away for a second, his smile soft and fond, and snapped back to attention when Charlie started laughing at him. 

“Boy, you got it bad. Lovesick pup, that’s you.” 

Dean felt his face heat up. “Shut up, you. I can’t help it. He’s the best, and I’m so proud of him.” He tried to scowl at her, but couldn’t keep it up in the face of her amusement. 

Taking pity on him, Charlie reached out and squeezed his hand. “I know, sweetie. He’s pretty great. Aren’t you glad I convinced him to give your sorry ass a chance?” 

Dean gave her a half-smile. “I sure am. Thanks, kid.” He leaned across the table and kissed her cheek. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just remember you owe me.” 

“No doubt. You okay here? Is somebody helping you get this stuff home?” 

Charlie nodded. “Yep, Dorothy should be here any second, probably trying to park. We got this.” 

Dean patted her shoulder. “All right then, I’m gonna head back. Cas and company should be done soon, and I got me some plans.” He waggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly, and Charlie raised her hands, palms out. 

“Don’t tell me, I don’t wanna know! Just be safe, make good choices, be home by curfew!” She winked, and Dean snorted as he turned to walk back through the Market to meet Cas. 

 

For the rest of his life, late at night in the clutch of old, dark dreams, Dean would remember this: walking along, smiling and nodding at people he knew, sidestepping a mother pushing a stroller, making his way toward the moment that would change his life. One hand was shoved in his pants pocket, clutching the little blue jewelry box and daydreaming, imagining what he wanted to say to Cas tonight, only half-aware of his surroundings. He stumbled, bumping into a little girl careening up against him. When he looked up from setting her back on her feet, he could see Cas several feet ahead of him, standing at the top of the stairs, cello slung casually under one arm and looking around for Dean. 

Dean’s smile stretched across his face; he called out and waved both arms over his head, watched Cas’ face light up, his own awkward little wave. Dean kept moving toward Cas, eyes on Cas until something caught his attention, something beyond Cas and off to the side a little, moving at an angle, coming fast, moving toward the stairway, toward…. Moving toward Cas, tall, angular, a familiar face, twisted in rage. Belatedly Dean recognized him: the man in Jo’s sketch, in Charlie’s description, the mugger who’d terrorized them all year. Dean struggled to get through the crowd, watching in horror as the attacker raised his arms, hands clenched into fists, and accelerated toward his target. 

“CAS!!”


	21. Chapter 21

It was all Dean could do not to jump out of Baby and run up the hill to Virginia Mason. The dashboard clock showed only ten minutes had passed, but he could almost hear the clock ticking in slow motion. He parked at the little cafe; for a second he sat staring at the sign and the lightened windows, remembering the evening when Gabe was attacked, hurrying in the door for a muffin and a cup of tea for Cas. So long ago… Dean shook his head sharply and shoved the car door open, all but falling onto the pavement before he righted himself and ran for the ER. 

Inside, he stood for a moment, staring wildly around before he started hustling toward the treatment rooms. 

“Sir! Stop right there! Sir, please, you can’t go back there!” Dean snarled and swung his head around toward the nurse at the intake station, who was half-standing and glaring at him. 

“But he’s - Cas is there, I have to-“ 

The nurse sighed and straightened up, a kind expression softening her face. “I’m sorry, sir, but you need to wait out here. Who are you looking for?” 

“Cas. Cas Novak, he came in a few minutes ago I think, he was - somebody pushed him, it was - at the Market, he fell down the stairs, please-”

The nurse nodded and beckoned him to the chair beside her desk. “Yes, he came in a few minutes ago, they’re back there working on him now. Please, sit down, take a breath.” She nodded encouragingly, and Dean dropped into the chair. 

“Okay, what’s your name?” 

“Dean Winchester.” 

“Relationship to the patient?” 

“Uh, fiance.” Dean flushed and squirmed in his seat and letting out a long, shaky breath. “He’s, he’s my fiancé.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “I can’t tell you much right now, Mr. Winchester, they’re pretty busy back there. I promise someone will come and speak with you as soon as they have any information, okay? Make yourself comfortable, help yourself to coffee and try not to worry. We’ll take good care of him, I promise you.” 

Dean nodded weakly and pushed to his feet. As he turned toward the waiting room Sam came bursting through the outer doors, followed closely by Gabe and Charlie. 

“Dean! Oh my god, Dean, are you okay? What the hell happened??” Sam’s voice was loud in the small space, and for some reason that was all it took: Dean stood rooted to the spot, hands clenched at his sides, his breath coming harsh in his throat. 

“Sammy. Sammy, he’s - he fell, they won’t let me see him yet. Sam, his leg - and there was s-so much blood…” He broke, his voice choked and a sob wrenched its way out of his throat. Sam grabbed him tightly. 

“It’s all right, Dean, I’ve got you. It’ll be okay, don’t worry, they’ll fix him up, it’s okay. Dean, c’mon, let’s sit down before we fall down. I swear to you it’s gonna be okay.” Sam kept murmuring in his ear, kept his arm tight around Dean’s shoulders. He could feel Charlie’s small hand in one of his and hear her whispering to him. Their voices were far away, echoing in the distance, as though he were separated from them by a glass wall. The pounding of his heart threatened to drown everything else out. 

Finally, when things sorted themselves out and he could breathe again, Dean was sitting in one of the chairs against the wall, Charlie on one side and Sam on the other. Gabe had dragged a chair up close enough that his knees were practically bumping into Dean’s. Dean took a gulp of air. 

“Sorry, guys. I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was gonna do that, I’m just… I wish they’d let me back there, or tell me what’s going on.” 

Charlie kissed his cheek. “You know they will as soon as they can. They’re working on Cas right now, that comes first.” Dean nodded and squeezed her hand, unable to speak. 

“Dean?” He looked up at the quavery sound of Anna’s voice, and before he knew he was going to move he was on his feet and folding her into a hug. She was shaking as much as he was; after a moment she pushed back a little and stared up at him. 

“What on earth happened?” 

“Yeah, I was gonna ask that too.” Gabe leaned over and kissed Anna’s cheek, then gestured for her to take his seat. 

Dean settled back into his chair. “I was - we had a date, Cas played in the afternoon at the Market, there was a, a group thing with a bunch of his students.” 

Anna nodded. “His student ensemble, they’re getting geared up for a performance in a few weeks.” 

“Right. We were gonna meet at the flower stand there at the top of the stairs, after he was finished. I made reservations, it was…” Dean trailed off, a rush of tears choking him. He could feel the little box in his pocket; he wiped his face angrily and started again. 

“Anyway, I was, I dunno, twenty yards away from the stairs and I saw Cas come up to the top, he had his overcoat on and he was carrying his cello, looking around for me, I guess. He looked so… you know how he always looks after a performance when it, y’know, when it went well.” He looked at Anna; she gave him a watery smile and nodded. 

“He saw me and smiled and turned toward me, his back was toward the stairs and then I saw - I saw this guy sort of rushing toward him all of a sudden, coming from behind him. He was - it was that guy, I recognized him from the sketch they did after Jo…” Dean broke off and shook his head sharply. “I recognized him, the same guy. Really tall and thin and those eyes, y’know? And, and he w-was… He was glaring at Cas, he was looking right at him. Cas was still - there were so many people milling around, he hadn’t moved very far, he was still pretty much in front of the stairway, and the guy was charging at him from the other side, he was coming right at him so fast, and I realized oh shit, he’s gonna hit Cas, and I yelled at Cas, I screamed out his name and started pushing people out of the way, I tried to run and Cas was looking at me so funny like he does when I’m being extra stupid. Like, what is your problem? And I knew I wasn’t gonna be able to get to him, and I yelled again, look out! or something like that, and people were yelling, and then…” Dean made a hurt sound in his throat, a small whimper; Sam’s arm tightened around his shoulder. 

“And then the guy shoved him, just slammed his arms like a, a tackle into Cas’ back, and C-cas, he… He fell, he sort of yelled out and then just tipped over and disappeared into the stairwell. It was horrible, it was slow-motion, like if I could just run faster I could catch him but he was already falling. I could hear him fall, the cello crashing down, Cas yelling like he was being kicked, and this awful noise at the end. I finally got to the stairs…” Dean’s voice trailed off again. He clamped a hand over his eyes and hunched in on himself. 

“It’s all right, Dean, you don’t have to remember any more. Don’t think about it, it’s over.” Charlie’s voice was thick with tears; she clutched his arm and leaned her head against his. “It’s okay, Dean.” 

Dean let out a harsh breath and leaned his head back against the wall for a moment. He opened his eyes and stared at Gabe, who winced at his reddened eyes, the misery in his face. 

“Hey, pal, Charlie’s right. You don’t have to talk about it any more.” 

“Gabe, he was… I could see him lying in a heap down there, him and his cello. It was pretty well wrecked, and his, his leg was angled all wrong, and one arm too, and his, his head…” Dean put his arm up over his eyes. “I could see blood coming out in a pool under his head, Gabe. I went down on my knees, I wanted to pick him up so bad but I knew he was really hurt, I shouldn’t even touch him, I just…” 

“I know, buddy, I know. You did the right thing. How long before the paramedics got there?” 

“i don’t know, I don’t remember.” Dean dropped his arm and frowned at Gabe. “I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“It was just a few minutes, Dean.” Charlie smiled reassuringly at him. “Several people called it in, they were there in five minutes or so. They got him here really fast.” 

Dean nodded distractedly. For a few minutes they all sat quietly, sniffling occasionally and holding onto each other. Finally Dean sighed heavily and looked around. 

“Did anybody see what happened to the mugger? I didn’t even think of that until this minute. Anybody know where he went? Are they looking for him?” 

Sam smiled grimly. “Not necessary. About ten people tackled him on the spot. He tried to fight them off but, um…” He glanced over at Charlie, who was looking distinctly homicidal. 

“I clobbered him in the head with one of Garth’s walking sticks. The heavy end.” Gabe uttered a short bark of laughter, abruptly cut off at the look Charlie gave him. 

“Wow, girlie, remind me not to get on your bad side.” Gabe winked and blew her a kiss, and she huffed angrily. “Did you at least kill him?” 

“No, and I’m not sure whether I’m glad or pissed about that. He was sort of in and out, the aid crew had a look at him and made the cops take him in for X-rays. _Not_ at this hospital, thank you very much. He’s apparently gonna live, and I assume is currently nursing his headache in the dungeon of the city jail. Hope so anyway.” 

Dean squeezed her hand and started to speak, but stopped short at the sight of a doctor coming out of the treatment room area, looking around. 

“Dean Winchester? Is there a Dean Winchester here?” 

“Here, I’m him!” Dean scrambled to his feet and crossed the room in about two steps.

The doctor smiled sympathetically and shook Dean’s hand. “I’m Dr. Madison, the doctor in charge of managing Mr. Novak’s care. I’m so sorry we have to meet under these circumstances.” 

Dean nodded. “It’s Doctor. Dr. Novak.” 

“Ah.” The doctor looked down at the paperwork in his hand, made a quick note. “Thank you, I’ll make sure the records are changed. I’ll make this quick, just a rundown of his injuries so you know what’s happening. 

“Dr. Novak has minor break to his left arm, which will likely not required anything beyond setting and casting, simple procedures. He has two rather serious breaks to his right leg, which will require surgery to pin together. The nature of the fractures may affect the healing process, we won’t know that for awhile. He has multiple contusions and hematoma, a few cuts and scrapes. All those will heal quickly and with no complications. 

“He also appears to have suffered a depressed fracture of the skull. We won’t know anything about how extensive the injury is until we get in there. He’s being prepped for surgery now.” He gazed intently into Dean’s face for a moment. “I know this is a lot to take in, and I’m sorry I don’t have more information. The next few hours are critical. He’s in very good hands, I promise you we’re taking very good care of him. I’ll let you know more as soon as I can. All right?” 

Dean nodded again, dazed. “Thanks. Thank you, doctor.” He sank back down into his chair, blinking. His hands felt weird; when he looked down at them, they were shaking, a continuous slight tremble. 

There was a moment of silence, then Sam took a deep breath. 

“Okay. Sounds like a bit of a wait then.” Dean looks up at the sound of Sam’s voice, and Sam managed a lopsided smile. “One of us will wait with you, we can take turns and then somebody’ll be here all night if we need to. You won’t be alone, Dean.” 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Sam. Thanks, you guys.” He barely recognized his own voice; it sounded rusty and weak. Charlie settled into the chair next to him, slipping her arm through his. 

“I got first watch. Sam, I’ll shoot you a text when we hear something?” She looked up at Sam questioningly, and he nodded. 

“Good, that’ll work. Okay, let’s head home, Charlie’ll keep us posted. Dean, you need anything before I go?”

Dean’s face twisted; he tried to speak but his throat was tight with tears. Sam made a face.

“Sorry, that was stupid. Sorry, Dean.” 

“I’ll look out for him, Sam, don’t worry.” Charlie squeezed Dean’s arm and gave Sam a shaky smile. Sam nodded, leaned down to kiss the top of Dean’s head, and turned toward the door, gesturing to Anna and Gabe. In a few moments the room was nearly empty. 


	22. Chapter 22

For hours Dean alternated between sipping water, trying and failing to choke down a few bites of food, and pacing back and forth, checking the time every few minutes for no reason he could think of except that he somehow had to know exactly what time it was. How much time had passed. Every time the outside door hissed open he whirled to check who was coming in. A few times it was family, friends, familiar faces; mostly, other people just like him, faces twisted with fear, hoping for news and getting almost nothing, nothing that helped, anyway. Pacing, drinking coffee, slipping down the hall to the bathroom, coming back with more coffee. 

 

Two detectives found him wandering in the hallway a couple of hours into the wait. At first Dean found it difficult to form a coherent sentence, but they asked him questions slowly, calmly, looking interested and in no particular a rush. It helped him settle into the telling, remember things, start making sense. It helped him ignore the panicked voice in his mind: _Cas, Cas, where are you?_

They were wrapping up when Dean remembered to ask if they thought this was the same suspect that had been terrorizing the Market for months. They told him they weren’t sure, based on Dean’s description. When he asked them if they’d spoken with Jo, one of them paged through his notes and elbowed his partner. Did Dean know how they might reach her? Sure, right here, still in the hospital. They got up abruptly, in tandem, thanked him and hurried off. 

 

 

Buzzing in his pocket, finally registering as his phone. “Yeah?” 

_“Dean, it’s Ellen. Are you all right?”_

Dean made an inarticulate noise, and Ellen choked off what might have been a sob. _“Sorry, stupid question, forget I asked. I’m upstairs with Jo. The cops were just here and showed her some pictures. She picked out the guy who…”_ Ellen choked again. _“The guy who grabbed her. Dean, it’s the same guy, the picture they showed her is a mug shot of the guy who attacked Cas. They’ve got him for a dozen assaults over the last several months. He’ll never see the light of day again.”_

Dean nodded, remembered belatedly that she couldn’t see him, tried a couple of times to clear his throat. “Uh, yeah, good, that’s good, Ellen. Jo okay?” 

_“She’s pissed as a wet cat, but yeah, she’s fine. She sends her love. We all do, honey.”_ He could hear the muffled sound of Ellen sniffling and blowing her nose. _“Do you need anything? Can I bring you something to eat?”_

“I just need - I need to see Cas, or at least get some news. They won’t tell me anything.” 

_“Hmmm. I still know a couple of nurses on staff, let me see if I can shake anything loose. Give me a few minutes.”_

“Okay.” Dean hung up before Ellen could say anything else, leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. 

 

“Dean Winchester?” 

Dean snorted awake, jerking up out of the chair before he was fully conscious, looking around dazedly. A tall, thin man in scrubs was walking toward him. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me. How’s Cas?” 

“I’m Jake, one of the trauma nurses. I’ve been in with the doctors who are treating Doctor Novak. I was told you hadn’t had any info yet?” 

Dean shook his head, and the man smiled sympathetically. “I know it’s hell to wait, but these kinds of injuries take awhile to evaluate. And we always have to stabilize the patient before we can do much, which is more complicated with a head injury.” 

Dean made a strangled noise and sank toward his chair, Jake’s hand under one elbow. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, I shouldn’t have been quite so blunt.” 

Dean shook his head. “No, it’s okay, I knew he was…” He shook his head. “What can you tell me?” 

“He’s stable, actually doing pretty well in that regard. We’re still patching him up, but I can tell you that his right leg is badly broken, a combination of a spiral fracture of the femur, the thigh bone, and a greenstick fracture of the fibula, the smaller bone in the lower leg. That’s a lot of damage, but it should all heal fairly well in time. He also has a fracture in the ulna, the forearm bone on the outside of the arm. That one’s pretty minor. Lots of severe bruising. It looks like no internal injuries, amazingly.” 

Dean could feel his breath harsh in his throat, his mind whirling at all this information. He could barely stand to think about Cas so badly hurt, and then remembered. 

“Jake, what about…” He choked, and forced himself to speak. “His head, there was so much blood…” 

Jake rested one hand on Dean’s arm for a second. “He suffered a depression fracture of the skull - that’s when a blow from the outside breaks the bone and presses it inward.” Dean winced and covered his eyes with one hand. Jake was silent a moment, and then went on. 

“In most cases it doesn’t splinter the bone, but it can impact the brain enough to cause bleeding. That’s what we think happened to Dr. Novak. They’re finishing up surgery now. They had to remove the fractured bone to examine the area, and then work on stopping the bleeding and evaluating how widespread it is.” He fell silent again and sat quietly, waiting for Dean to process. 

After a long moment Dean wiped angrily at his face and heaved out a long breath. “I - Is he gonna die?” He stared into Jake’s eyes, holding his breath, and Jake gave him a half-smile. 

“No, no, Mr. Winchester. He’s not going to die. He’s going to make it through this.” Dean gasped out a sob and slumped back in his chair, face clearing, smiling shakily for the first time in what felt like days. Jake made a face. 

“I don’t want to leave you with the wrong impression, Mr. Winchester. Dr. Novak is gravely injured, and we won’t know for several days exactly how serious the head injury is..” 

Dean sat up straight again, frowning. “But - but you said he’s not dying, he’s gonna be okay!” 

“Yes, and he will survive. What we don’t know yet is how his brain will be affected by the bleeding. It may be mild, it may be very serious and long-term, or somewhere in between. We just don’t know yet.” 

Dean got to his feet, unable to sit still. _This can’t be happening, he can’t be -_

He stopped at the bank of windows, staring unseeing out into the empty street. The moon was high, spilling its pale light across the sky. How long had he been here, anyway? Dean squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed his face with both hands. He could hear Jake coming up alongside him. 

“Mr. Winchester, I know this is a lot to take in. I promise you he’s going to be all right. We’re taking very good care of him, and over the next several days we’ll have a much better idea of what we’re looking at going forward.” A moment of silence before he spoke again. “Are you here alone? Is there someone we can call for you?” 

“Can I see him?” Dean croaked out, barely above a whisper. Jake watched him for a moment. 

“Yeah, okay, let me see what I can do. Wait here, okay?” 

Dean nodded and watched the nurse hurry back down the hall toward the treatment rooms. It was only a few minutes before he came back, beckoning to Dean. 

“They’re moving him to intensive care. It’ll take a little while, but when he’s settled you can see him just for a moment. He needs to rest, so you can’t stay more than a minute or two. Okay?” Deans nodded again, unable to speak. “Okay. I’ll come and get you when he’s ready.” 

Dean sank into a chair, watching Jake head down the hall again. Dean’s knee jittered up and down seemingly on its own; he stared at the door, willing it to open so he could find Cas, wake up from this nightmare. 

 

When he finally arrived upstairs in the ICU Dean was immediately intimidated - the hushed hallway, beeping alarms and blinking lights, the small, enclosed rooms like cells, lining the hallway. He could hear his heart pounding, feel it in his fingertips, feel his breath harsh in his throat. 

“You okay, honey?” Dean started and jerked toward the voice, an _uhhhh!_ sound escaping from his throat. A nurse was standing near him, watching him with a concerned look on her face. 

“Y-yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I’m actually looking for a, a patient that just came in, Cas Novak?” 

“Oh yes, we just put him in a room. Are you Dean? Jake down in the ER said you’d be up to see Dr. Novak.” She was smiling at him now, gesturing for him to walk with her. He could barely make his feet move; the farther down the hall they went, the harder it was to keep going, keep walking toward the room that held Cas. What would he find? How bad would he look? Would Cas even know him? What if - 

The nurse stopped in front of a door across from the nurses’ station; she stood with her hand on the door, watching Dean seriously.

“I want to tell you what to expect, is that all right?” 

“Uh - yeah, I guess.” 

“Okay. Dr. Novak -”

“Cas. His name’s Cas.” Dean’s voice was choked and hoarse. 

“Cas.” She smiled up at him. “Cas is still unconscious.” Dean made an involuntary sound in his throat. “It’s all right, he’s all right. He’ll actually be in a medically induced coma for a few days, to let the swelling in his brain go down and to reduce the shock to his system. He’s doing pretty well, all things considered, but he’s badly hurt. He needs to rest, so I can only let you stay for a minute, and I don’t want him disturbed. Understand?” 

Dean nodded jerkily. The nurse opened the door slowly and carefully, just wide enough for him to slip into the room. 

Dimly lit, quiet except for the hushed sounds of the machines; the only light on the wall at the head of the bed, shaded to keep the direct light off the man lying motionless below it. Dean stood just inside the door, staring in shock, barely breathing. Somehow he made his feet move, carry him slowly across the floor to stop at the bedside. 

So pale and still; gauze wrapped around his head; lashes and hair stark against his white face. Dark bruises coming up on the side of his face. Cast around one arm, more bruises showing. He was breathing, thank god. Dean finally made it to the side of the bed, reached with one trembling hand, tentatively resting it on Cas’ unbandaged hand. 

“Oh Cas, god…” He choked to a halt, his free hand over his eyes, stood there for a moment before he could get his breath back and his voice under control. “I’m here, buddy. I’m right here. They won’t let me stay long, but I’ll be back, I promise. You’re gonna be okay. They’re taking good care of you, so don’t worry about anything, okay? Just rest and get better.” 

“Dean?” The nurse was standing in the doorway behind him. Dean turned his head slightly and then quickly bent down to whisper. 

“I gotta go, but I’ll be back later. Just - just keep breathing, okay? Just hang on. I love you, Cas.” He leaned a little further, just enough to brush his lips against Cas’ cheek. 

“Dean, it’s time to go.” 

Dean nodded and backed away from the bed, tearing his eyes away only when he bumped into the half-open door. Outside, he turned to the nurse. 

“When can I see him again?” 

She frowned a little. “I’m pretty sure they’re not going to allow visitors for a day, maybe two. It depends on -” 

“Please.” Dean’s eyes filled. “Please, I need to -” 

She sighed, making a face. “You’re welcome to come back to the unit later, they’ll have your name and will give you information about Cas’ condition. You can ask for the doctor and they’ll call him, you can talk to him and ask questions. They probably won’t let you in to see him, but you can ask. And I’ll…” She paused and peered up at him. “I’ll put a good word in for you with the day shift. Now you need to get home and get yourself some rest. Is there someone who can pick you up?” 

Dean blinked rapidly, trying to remember. “Uh… I think Charlie’s - I think my friend is still here. I don’t know.” 

“All right. I’ll get someone to walk you back down to the ER and find out. Promise me you won’t drive yourself home.” She glared at him sternly, and relented when he nodded meekly. She smiled at him, gesturing at a passing aide. “Take care of yourself, honey. You’re no good to him or yourself if you collapse. Hear me?” 

“Yes ma’am. Um, thanks, I don’t - thank you for taking care of him.” Dean’s voice broke, and he wiped his eyes, feeling her hand on his arm. 

“You’re welcome. Go on now.”


	23. Chapter 23

The next several days passed in a blur. At some point Dean remembered he had a job and should probably call in. But when he did, Ava informed him that Bobby was already there holding down the fort, they all were, and that he wasn’t to even thinking about coming in. Somewhere during the second day Dr. Madison gave him and Anna a little more detailed briefing - traumatic brain injury was likely, but determining exactly how that would affect Cas remained to be seen, possibly in a week or two. Which sounded like forever. 

For those first few days Dean was only allowed into Cas’ room for a few minutes at a time. They were never quite alone, not for very long, before someone came in to check on the machines, Cas’ vitals, whatever; sometimes the nurse cleared his or her throat and looked pointedly at the clock on the wall. Dean could not have cared less. He always took a second to smooth his hand over Cas’ head, kiss his forehead, touch his hand, whisper _I love you_ before they hustled him out. 

Dean arrived on the fourth day expecting more of the same, and was surprised and abruptly terrified to find both Gabe and Anna standing outside Cas’ room. His face must have looked awful, because Anna moved quickly toward him, her hands raised in a placating gesture. 

“Nono, Dean, he’s okay, don’t panic. Gabe came and picked me up, we came together. Nothing’s happened as far as I know, don’t worry.” She squeezed his arm gently, and Dean blew out a relieved breath. 

“O-okay, god, I didn’t know what to think when I saw you both here. Jesus -” 

“It’s okay, pal, not to worry. I’m hoping to get in -” Gabe broke off, frowning slightly, as a couple of nurses appeared suddenly and entered Cas’ room, closing the door behind them. 

“Oh god,” Dean started panicking all over again. He moved toward the door, and both Gabe and Anna took hold of his arms. 

“Wait, Dean, they’ll come and get us, hang on. We can’t do anything in there, let’s just wait and see.” Anna looked as worried as Dean felt, but she was right, they’d only be in the way right now. He shifted his weight, ran his hand through his hair, tried to remember how to breathe. 

Finally, a doctor came out of Cas’ room and peered around. His eyes landed on the three of them, and he walked toward them, a tired-looking smile on his face. 

“Good morning, I’m Dr. Nelson. You’re Dr. Novak’s family?” Dean nodded mutely, and Gabe and Anna murmured assent. Dean found his voice. 

“Doc, is he - how is he? Is he doing okay?” 

“Yes, yes, very well. In fact, he’s waking up.” 

There was a long pause, and Dean could feel his mouth hanging open. Anna sobbed once, turning her face into his upper arm; on the other side Gabe made a _ha!_ sound. 

Dean swallowed a couple of times. “Awake? He’s conscious?” 

The doctor tilted his head. “Well, he’s trying to come around, and he may not completely regain consciousness right now. He’s been through a lot the last couple of days, and he won’t be awake long. But you can come in and see him if you’d like.” 

Dean’s feet were already moving. The doctor scurried to catch up, reaching the door just as Dean’s hand reached out for the handle. 

“Before we go in, Mr. -?” 

“Winchester.” 

“Mr. Winchester. He’ll be disoriented, confused, foggy. He may not be able to carry on a real conversation just yet. I promise you he’s okay, and he’s going to be much more alert and responsive after another day or two. At this point it’s best to move slowly, talk quietly, don’t overwhelm him. I’ll allow all three of you to go in together, but I stress that it’s important to stay calm and keep the noise down. Understood?” 

They all nodded quickly, and he swung the door open. 

The room was still dimly lit, just enough to see a couple of chairs, monitoring equipment, the bed. Cas was covered with a sheet and a light blanket. One arm lay on top of the blanket, a cast extending from his hand up past his elbow. His right leg, in a cast from hip to foot, was suspended over the bed. Dean could feel his own legs shaking; he gasped for air, and reached blindly for something to hold onto. Anna slipped her arm around his waist; he suddenly felt pathetically grateful she was here. He took a deep breath and stepped closer. 

If anything, it was worse up close. Cas’ face, deathly pale, was terribly bruised, purple and dark blue, almost black. There was a cut along one eyebrow, cleaned and stitched up. Dean felt a wave of protectiveness roll through him; he could barely keep himself from climbing up on the bed and taking Cas in his arms, he would give anything to turn back the clock and be home with Cas, lie in bed and hold onto Cas and not be here right now. A small sound escaped him, a miniature sob. 

At the sound, Cas grunted, his head rolling slightly on the pillow. His fingers, poking out of the end of the cast on his arm, wriggled, and he winced. Dean sucked in a breath, and clutched the bed rail to keep from grabbing Cas’ hand. Cas let out a soft moan, his face pinched in what might have been pain, and rolled his head toward Dean. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered and then opened, just a slit. Dean could see a little slice of blue. 

“Cas? Hey good-lookin’, can you hear me?” 

Cas muttered something, closed his eyes, dragged them back open. He was frowning up at Dean, trying to focus. Dean gave him a wobbly smile. 

“Cas, it’s me, Anna and Gabe are here too. You in there, buddy?” 

Cas took a deep breath and let it out, closing his eyes again and opening them to look at up at Dean. Recognition flashed across his face. 

“...Dean?” He sounded weak, wobbly, barely whispering. Dean thought he’d never heard anything so beautiful in all his life. He made a humiliating noise, and wiped hastily at his eyes. 

“Yeah, it’s me. God, it’s good to see you. How you feeling?” 

Anna moved up on the other side of the bed, sliding a hand carefully onto Cas’ shoulder. “We’re here, Cas.” 

Cas hummed, eyes closed again. A small frown appeared between his eyes, and he made a thin, soft sound in his throat. 

“You hurting, Cas? Hey, nurse, is he -” Dean looked around a bit wildly, suddenly afraid, and the nurse came forward quickly. She peered at the readout on the nearest monitor. 

“His heart rate’s up a little, breathing too. I think we’ll give him a little more.” She saw the alarmed look on Dean’s face, and smiled up at him. “Don’t worry, he’s in no danger. Staying asleep will only help him at this point. Here we go, Dr. Novak.” She depressed the button on the IV, and Cas relaxed visibly into the mattress. Dean sighed along with him. 

“All right, folks, let’s go back outside. He needs his rest.” The nurse herded them toward the door firmly, and there was no arguing with her. Dean kept looking back at the still figure on the bed, his throat closing up with unshed tears. 

Once they were outside in the corridor the nurse was joined by Dr. Nelson. Dean tore his eyes away from his last view of Cas, and turned toward the doctor. 

“When can I see him again?” 

“I know it’s hard to accept, but it’s better for him that he not have a great many visitors in his room right now. In a few days he’ll be stronger and able to handle it. For now though, I’m going to say -” 

“Please, doc.” Dean sounded ragged and desperate even to himself, but he didn’t care. “Please, I need to see him. I can’t -” 

The doctor held up a hand. “I was about to say, I’ll allow a five minute visit in the morning and one in the evening until further notice. I promise in a couple of days you’re going to see a huge improvement, provided he gets the rest he needs right now. How does that sound?” 

Dean nodded jerkily, glancing at Gabe and Anna and then back to Dr. Nelson. “Yeah, okay. Can I come back any time?” 

“Let’s say between nine in the morning and seven at night. We have more staff on hand between those times.” 

“Okay. Thanks, doc. Thanks for everything.” 

“You’re very welcome. If anything major happens someone will call you, I promise. In the meantime, why don’t you go home and get some rest? You could probably use it.” He smiled wryly, and Dean let out a strangled laugh. 

“I look like it, huh?” He rubbed his face tiredly and nodded. “Good idea. Thanks again.” 

The three of them stood together for a few minutes in the corridor, not talking. Dean let out a long, shaky breath. He glanced at the others, his face twisting. They looked as miserable as he feels. Without thinking, Dean stepped forward and put his arms around their shoulders, and felt each of them grab on tight. 

“Okay, that was progress, right? He’s better.” He looked hopefully at the two of them. Gabe tried to smile. 

“Yeah, a little. Slow progress, the doc said.” 

Anna wiped her eyes. “I think I’d like to go home, Gabe, if you don’t mind. Dean, can you get home, do you need a lift?” 

Dean shook his head. “No, I can drive. I - I was thinking I’d stay at the apartment tonight. I want to get back here as soon as they’ll let me in in the morning.” 

Anna nodded. Gabe gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. 

“Sounds good, pal. I can’t make it in the morning, can you shoot me a message after you see him, let me know what’s up?” 

Dean smiled. “Sure, no problem. We’re gonna get through this, guys. Hang in there, okay?” They’ both nodded wearily. “Okay, I guess I’m off too. Thanks for being here, I don’t think I could have - just, thanks.” 

“Of course. I’m glad you’re here too.” Anna smiled shakily. 

“Okay, see you guys tomorrow, right?” 

“Right.”


	24. Chapter 24

After that, every day brought steady progress - sometimes tiny increments, sometimes surprising improvement. Dean’s visits expanded to an hour or so morning and afternoon; usually spent reading to Cas, or bringing him cards and notes from colleagues and students, and their friends. Cas was spending more and more time awake, more alert every day. He was aware of where he was, what had happened; after a couple of weeks he could participate in conversations with the doctors, ask questions and understand the answers. His speech, slow and halting at first, improved after a couple of weeks to the point that only someone who knew him well could tell there was any hesitation. 

What Dean noticed was that as all these things got better and better, Cas grew more distant, withdrawn, barely looking Dean in the eyes. He wasn’t engaging much with anybody but the doctors, so Dean tried not to worry about it. But finally, one evening when Dean brought dinner in to share, Cas was so cold and distant Dean could feel himself panicking. 

“Cas, what’s wrong? I mean, besides the obvious. What’s bothering you?” Dean set his plate aside and leaned his elbows on Cas’ bed, looking anxiously into the quiet face. “Cmon, buddy, talk to me.” 

Cas frowned down at his hands; he was holding a soft rubber ball in his left hand, squeezing repeatedly, and for a few minutes it looked like he wasn’t going to answer. But finally, he let out a long breath and dropped the ball into the blankets gathered around his hips. 

“I’ve been thinking that - I’ve been thinking maybe we should take a break for awhile.” His voice was soft, worn down, almost no inflection. He fell silent, still not looking at Dean. 

Stunned, Dean leaned back, his eyes wide with shock. For a second he couldn’t take a breath, and finally gasped in air so he could answer. 

“What? Cas, you don’t mean that. I’m not ‘taking a break’, come on! Let me help you, we can figure this out, just -” 

“I think it’s best, while I’m recovering.” 

“B-but Cas, that’s just - That’s crazy! What, you think I don’t want to help you? 

Cas didn’t reply, picking at the blanket with his fingers. He seemed to have shrunk somehow, hunched into the bed, turned into himself. Dean clutched the arms of his chair, feeling desperate and helpless. 

“Cas, look at me. Don’t do this, I know you’re scared and, and confused maybe, you got dealt a miserable hand. I’m so sorry this has happened, but we’re gonna figure this out. You’re gonna be okay, just please don’t -” He stopped, shocked into silence by the look in Cas’ eyes, staring back at him from the white face. 

“No. I need to do this on my own. I think you should go, let me rest.” 

“No! Cas, no! Don’t -” Cas looked away, his chin set, staring at the wall. Dean stared helplessly, feeling like he’d been kicked in the stomach. He made a couple more attempts to get Cas’ attention, to no avail. 

Finally, Dean pushed himself to his feet and kissed Cas’ cheek. “Let’s talk more tomorrow, okay? I’ll be back in the morning, maybe you’ll feel better by then. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay. I love you.” No response from Cas, still as stone. Aching and miserable, and suddenly afraid, Dean reluctantly moved away. At the door he glanced back, but Cas iwas gazing unseeing away from him, out the window, silent and unmoving. 

Outside, he all but ran into Anna, who was standing just outside the door with a cautious look on her face. 

“Hey, Anna, he’s, um - I think he’s really tired tonight. He doesn’t seem to feel much like talking.” Dean tried to smile, and she nodded briskly, not quite making eye contact. 

“I won’t stay - I’m not going to - I just want to say good night, that’s all.” Her voice was strained, rushed, stumbling over words. Dean frowned, puzzled, and started to speak, but she brushed by him, an artificial-looking smile pasted on her face. 

“Okay, see you later, good -” Dean broke off as the door swung closed behind her, clicking shut with an abrupt sound. He turned and stumbled down the hall, trying not to fall apart.

 

A restless night, a breakfast he couldn’t choke down, a long run - none of those things made a dent in Dean’s uneasiness after leaving the hospital the night before. He tried to force his mind to remember his euphoria at seeing Cas awake, hearing his voice, watching him sit up - unmistakable progress, undeniable evidence that he was alive and going to stay that way. But it didn’t last; he couldn’t keep his brain from turning from those moments to his last view of Cas last night: stone-faced, cool-eyed, not even turning to watch Dean walking out the door. 

Dean filled his travel mug with coffee, splashing a little milk into it. He stirred slowly, mind far away, running over and over the events of last night. The image that stuck in his head was Anna’s face; he’d glanced over at her, standing by Cas’ bed, just as the door closed. She was looking straight back at him, face pale and her eyes… Her eyes were full of sadness, regret, almost as though she wanted to - to _apologize_ to him. 

Dean shook his head, trying to get that picture out of his mind as he found his jacket and keys, headed for the door. The image was still there, haunting him. 

 

As soon as he rolled out of his parking spot he realized he shouldn’t have left so early, the rush hour was still on and traffic was crawling. He’d planned to be back around nine this morning, but it was nearly ten before he rushed out of the elevator on the ninth floor. As Dean passed the nurses’ station he heard one of them raise her voice, it might have been his name but he was so focused on the open door to Cas’ room he just kept going, pushed the door wide and - 

His eyes landed on the bed. Empty; in fact, an orderly had just finished making it up with fresh sheets, smoothing the blanket down and arranging a clean pillow at the head. Shocked, Dean grabbed at the foot rail. 

“What the hell are you doing? Where’s -” The orderly jumped in surprise and whirled around, startled eyes meeting Dean’s angry ones. 

“Sir, I’m just making the bed for the next patient, that’s my job.” He frowned up at Dean. 

Dean gaped. “The _next_ patient? What the hell are you -” 

“Dean.” Anna’s voice, behind him. Dean jerked around, and there she was in the doorway, Gabe standing just behind her. “Dean, let me explain.” 

“Explain what? Tell me what’s happened!” 

Anna sighed and rubbed her temple. Gabe squeezed her around the shoulders and looked ruefully at Dean. “Sorry, man, we couldn’t - There was no way to let you know in time.” 

Dean looked wildly back and forth between them; the orderly took the opportunity to slip out unnoticed, as Dean took a deep breath to speak. 

“Somebody better tell me what’s happening and right the fuck now. You can’t keep me from seeing Cas. You don’t have the right to -” 

“No, but Cas does.” Gabe spoke sharply, and then winced. “I’m sorry, man. He left early this morning, checked out before breakfast, I think.” He looked questioningly at Anna, who nodded wordlessly, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “He’s been released into rehab. He’s gone.” 

Dean heaved out a huge breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Okay, that’s good, right? Rehab will be good for him, get him back on his feet, that’s progress. Where? What facility did they send him to? Isn’t there a Virginia Mason clinic somewhere around here?” 

Anna made a harsh sound and covered her mouth with her hand. She turned her head away, and Gabe answered the question. 

“Yeah, I’m sure there is, but, Dean…” He sighed again, looking as though he’d rather be almost anywhere else. “Dean, he’s going to a private clinic, someplace he found out about.” Anna made another sound, and Gabe rolled his eyes. “Okay, I guess Anna did the research for him. But anyway, that’s where he’s headed.” 

Dean was struggling to take this in, to keep his head above water. “Well, okay, I’m guessing it’s a good one. So where is it?” 

Silence. And Dean had a sudden memory of an earthquake a few years back, just strong enough to get everyone’s attention and then settle back down. It was only after it was over that the real damage became apparent. He didn’t feel the quake this time, but he was experiencing that same aftershock: everything was about to crack right down the middle. 

“Oh no. No, no, Gabe, Anna, please - He was so, he was acting so weird last night, he wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. Please don’t tell me he’s…” He ran out of air suddenly, could only look pleadingly at both of them. _Please don’t say it._

Gabe met his eyes, his expression sad and apologetic. “It’s not really about you, Dean, I swear to god, it’s -” 

“He asked me not to tell you, okay??” Anna’s voice cut in sharply. She was glaring at them both, fists clenched, anger and misery warring on her face. “He doesn’t want you around! He doesn’t want you to know, to see him like that!” 

Dean stood rooted to the spot, his hands spread at his sides, mouth hanging open. _That can’t be right, she’s misunderstood, Cas would never…_ He choked, hearing his voice making strange little sounds, a part of him standing aside observing the rest of him falling apart. _That’s just wrong, Cas can’t be…_ He shuddered all over, and wondered idly if he was going to throw up. Dimly, through the roaring in his ears, he heard Gabe’s voice, saying his name. 

“Dean, hey Dean, come on back, pal. Breathe for me, ‘kay?” Gabe was standing right next to him, when did that happen? His vision cleared, his heart was still pounding but he could take a deep breath. 

“Gabe, please, you know he’d never… This can’t be right. Please tell me where he is.” 

“I can’t, Dean. I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me either.” Gabe’s eyes were dark with anger; he was scowling fiercely at Anna. Dean turned his head to look at her, but she was back to not meeting his gaze. 

“Anna.” 

“No.” Her teeth were clenched. “No, I promised him. He has the right to deal with this in his own way, and I’m not going to take that away from him. He’s suffered a huge loss, and he -” 

“But Anna, what about - you can’t mean he wants to deal with this alone?? That’s not the Cas I know!” 

Now Anna was looking into Dean’s eyes, as furious and grief-stricken as he was. “Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do! Have you considered that possibility, while you’re charging in on your white horse? You can’t save everybody, y’know! And you can’t take his choices away from him!” A sob broke loose from her throat, and she covered her face with her hands. Dean could hear her weeping, and felt his own tears sliding down his face. 

“Anna…” He took a step toward her, and she looked up into his face. 

“Dean, I am sorry, truly. This is so awful, for all of us. But I - he’s my little brother. I could never manage to be there when he needed me, all his life, but he’s always been the strong one. He was always there for me. Now it’s my turn and I’m not going to let him down. Try to understand.” She pulled her coat more tightly around her, looking back and forth between the two men. “I really am sorry.” And she was gone, her footsteps fading down the corridor. Dean stared disbelievingly at Gabe, and then at the empty bed. 

Gone.


	25. Year Three

Sedona, AZ  
Sunrise Rehabilitation Clinic 

 

“Okay, that was good, good effort. Let’s try it again.” 

Cas made a growling noise in his chest, wiped his forearm across his face. He was seated in a wheelchair, right leg in an extended legrest. His left foot was planted on the ground, in front of the wheel and next to the foot plate. He breathed harshly through his teeth, took a deep breath, gripped the armrests until his knuckles whitened, and struggled to stand. Panting, arms trembling with effort, teeth clenched - after a few minutes he managed to rise, balanced precariously on one foot. 

“Good, Cas, that’s great. Hang on just a minute and let me...” Brian, the physical therapist, stepped behind Cas, blocking the wheelchair so it wouldn’t roll backward. He patted Cas’ shoulder encouragingly. “Okay, let’s just stand for a minute. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall. Just practice standing upright, okay?” 

Cas nodded tightly. He blinked sweat out of his eyes, trying not to think about how completely awkward and incompetent he felt, how angry he was that he even had to be here, doing this. Brian cleared his throat. 

“Okay, now slowly and carefully, lower yourself back into your seat. Use your abs to control your descent, easy, easy. Good. Good job, pal.” Brian moved to stand beside Cas, peering down at him. “You doing okay?” 

Cas gives a sharp nod, and then looked up at Brian. He tried to smile, without much success. 

“I’d feel better if I didn’t have this.” Cas knocked his knuckles against the cast on his right leg. “I hate being the designated cripple.” He broke off, his mouth twisting. 

Brian watched him for a moment. “Well, I’m not gonna tell you you’re not a cripple, don’t talk like that, be positive!” Cas scowled up at him, and Brian smiled reassuringly. “It bites, that’s for sure. But we’re gonna keep working at this, and I promise you, once you get get a little more time under your belt, you’re going to see lots of improvement. Have faith, my friend, I’ve got a diploma and everything.” He grinned, and Cas managed a half smile in return. 

“If I’m not mistaken they’re xraying that leg today, right? You’ve been in the cast for about six weeks, so hopefully there’s been enough improvement you can switch to a lighter cast, maybe even a walking cast. Things will be a lot easier then.” 

Cas sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. You have a diploma, after all.” 

Brian chuckles. “That’s the spirit. All right, grumpyface, let’s go again. You ready?” 

“Ready.” Cas blew out a breath, and then leaned slightly forward, planting his foot again. Gradually, he pushed himself up, Brian standing behind him while he wobbled into position. 

“You’re doing great, pal, lookin’ good. Stand there a second, okay?” 

“Again??” 

Brian chuckled. “Yeah, I gotta check my email, just take a sec.” 

Cas groaned despairingly. “You are a monster.” 

“That’s my job, I do it with great pride. Okay, here we go. Ready? Back down again, use your abs to slow your roll. Easy now, down you go.” 

For another twenty minutes or so they kept at it, slowly and steadily. Finally, on the last attempt Cas dropped heavily into the chair, and Brian gave him the thumbs-up, handing him a small towel. Cas wiped his face, frowning. 

“You did great, my friend. Believe it or not, you’re stronger than you were when you got here, and it’s only been a few days. You’re doing so well.” 

“I hate this. I hate that I’m even here.” 

“I know, it’s a pain in the ass.” Brian crouched down in front of the chair, more or less at Cas’ eye level. “Look, Cas, I know it’s not easy. This is a huge challenge, recovering from an injury like this. I can only make you one promise: if you’re willing to do the work, it will get better, I swear. Cas?” 

Cas turned his head away, staring out the window at nothing. “I suppose.” He didn’t answer when Brian asked if he’s ready to go back to his room. He kept his eyes forward, unfocused, as they rolled down the hall. 

 

 

From the tiny patio off his room, Cas could see across the grounds to a small rise, a little hill with an open view at the top. It looked like there was a path leading up to the top; he wondered idly if it was wheelchair-accessible. Probably not. Here in the desert the sun was hot and bright, much different than at home - He shook his head sharply, pulled his hat bring down further to shut out the light. 

There was a brisk knock on the door, which he decided to ignore. To no avail; the door opened after a moment, and a cheery, dark-haired woman with sunglasses perched on top of her head and tattoos covering both arms came sauntering in. She was wearing jeans and a tank top with a faded band logo on it; after a minute Cas recognized the AC/DC logo, and looked quickly away. 

“I think you’re in the wrong room, miss.” 

His visitor laughed loudly, making him wince. “Miss? Wow, haven’t heard that one in awhile, thanks for the compliment.” He finally turned to look at her; she was smirking down at him with her hands on her hips. 

“You’re Cas Novak, right? Or, sorry, Dr. Novak, I should say. Right?” 

“Yes, I am. And you are?” 

She gave him a short bow. “I’m Pamela Barnes, I’m a doctor too but you should call me Pam, okay?” 

He favored her with a sour expression. “And you make house calls, doctor?” 

That laugh again, head thrown back. “Wow, you _are_ a card, doc. I’m your psychiatrist. We’re scheduled to start our sessions tomorrow morning, and I always like to meet people ahead of time in a more neutral space, if you know what I mean. Mind if I sit?” She indicated the chair on the patio, and he nodded. 

“You’re a man of few words, doc.” 

“I don’t have much to say.” 

“Ah, I see.” She looked at him speculatively, a half-smile on her face. “Well, I’m hoping that’ll change as we go along. D’you have any questions for me?” 

“Only one. Is this really necessary?” He lifted his chin, feeling a little defiant, and just managed not to clench his fists. 

Her face softened. “I’m not in the habit of forcing people to do anything they don’t want to do, Dr. Novak. My experience is that people going through a life change like this find it helpful to have someone to talk things through with. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now, physically and emotionally. My goal is to support you in your recovery, and to help you figure out what you want your life to look like from now on.” 

Cas made a dismissive noise. “I can’t even walk, Dr. Barnes. The life I had is over.” He glared at her, daring her to disagree with him. 

She just smiled. “One day at a time, my friend. And don’t bet against me, I ain’t lost a patient yet. I’ll win you over too.” She winked. 

Cas stared at her open-mouthed, nonplussed. She laughed and patted his arm as she got to her feet. “I’ve got you on my schedule at ten-thirty in the morning, right after your morning torture session with the lovely Brian. See you then?” He nodded, wordless, and she winked again as she headed out the door with a wave of her hand. He watched her go, then pressed the button to call the night aide, grimacing with annoyance, wondering if there would ever come a time that he wouldn’t be dependent on someone for the simplest tasks. 

 

 

The morning sun slanting through the window woke Cas before his alarm could go off. For a second he considered adding closing the blinds to his nightly routine, but truthfully it was a lovely way to wake up. He rolled his head on the pillow enough to see out the window without actually sitting up. The sky was a brilliant, endless blue; he could hear morning birds tuning up, the day beginning. If he were home he’d be pulling on his running clothes, tying his shoes, cueing up the iPod, heading out for a run before class. Dean would be mumbling sleepily from their bed, teasing him… Cas squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head: _no_. That was gone, that part of his life was over. Time to get on with whatever was left. 

If only he could get out of bed and do that. If only he knew what to do next.


	26. Chapter 26

Session notes

B: Dr. Pamela Barnes  
C: Cas Novak

 

B: Morning, Dr. Novak, come on in. Thanks, Bella. [sound of door closing] You sleep okay? 

C: Yes, fairly well. 

B: Still having some pain? 

C: Yes. Not too much. 

B: Don’t worry about the painkillers, doc. They’re not narcotic, and you need to be able to rest. I’d really like you to take one at bedtime every night for awhile. Got it? Hello? 

C: Yes, yes, I can hear you. 

B: All righty then. How’d things go in PT this morning? 

C: All right, I suppose. Practiced standing up and sitting down, and then we worked on hand and finger exercises, mostly stretches. 

B: How was that? 

C: Odd. I’m used to - it felt very strange. Frightening. 

B: How so? 

C: Well, I work - worked - with my hands. I can’t help thinking I won’t be able to do that any more. 

B: Hmmm…. Well, it’s really too soon to tell for sure about that. You’re just getting started. 

C: If you say so. So, how does this work? 

B: Well, generally we’ll just talk about whatever’s going on. For this first little while we’ll be getting to know each other, I’ll probably be asking questions every now and then, and then as time goes on we’ll get a little more specific, go a little deeper with the question-and-answer thing. 

C: What, no rules, no guidelines or mission statement, no goals? That doesn’t seem very professional, Dr. Barnes. 

B: Yeah, I get that a lot. Oh, and please call me Pam, or Pamela. 

Look, doc, I don’t have very many rules, they mostly don’t work very well in situations like this. All I ask is that you be as honest as you can be with me. You’re not gonna shock me, or hurt my feelings, or piss me off enough that I’ll kick you out. I promise you I’ll always tell you the truth, and I expect you to do the same. Got it? 

C: All right. Yes, I can do that. 

B: Okay, good, thanks. So, I get reports from the doctors and your PT guy, so I know what’s going on with you physically. I was wondering how you’re feeling with all this. 

C: It’s a little… A bit overwhelming, I suppose. 

B: Yeah, it’s a lot to throw at you. A lot of change. 

C: Understatement. I’m finding the physical therapy very discouraging. 

B: In what way? 

C: Well, it’s - There’s so much I can’t do. I couldn’t even get myself out of bed this morning, I had to have help with everything. Thank god I can still manage a fork. And I… 

B: ….what, doc? You what? 

C: Usually - it was really beautiful when I woke up, cool and sunny, a perfect morning. Usually on a morning like that I’d get up early and get dressed to go run. 

B: Ah, you’re a runner. 

C: Yes, almost every day. It keeps me in shape, and it’s very - almost meditative. My time to clear the cobwebs out. 

B: And this morning… 

C: I couldn’t run, of course! Don’t you understand? 

B: Well, I know how I’d feel in that situation. I want to know how you feel. 

C: Frustrated. Confused. I feel - I don’t know what’s going to happen, how I’m going to find a way to go on after - after everything. 

B: It’s tough when things change like this. Everything’s different, you’ve lost your sense of yourself, your place in the world. That’s very disorienting. 

C: … 

B: Okay, question time. Right now you’re missing your morning run, is that fair to say? 

C: Yes. 

B: Okay. If I’m hearing you right, you’re also missing being able to get out of bed on your own, get ready for the day. Yeah? 

C: Of course. 

B: RIght. So what would you normally do on a regular day? You work, right? 

C: Yes, I’m… I was a professor at the School of Music at the University of Washington in Seattle. I taught classes and had individual students. 

B: Oh wow! What do you play? 

C: I used to play the cello. 

B: Ah lovely. My favorite instrument in the orchestra. 

C: Really? 

B: Yeah, that beautiful voice, and cellos look very elegant. 

C: Yes, they certainly do. Well, some of them do. I also play - _played_ an electronic cello. They look a little like a cello’s skeleton, I suppose. 

B: Ha! Do you play somewhere besides the school, the symphony maybe? 

C: Yes, the Seattle Symphony, and when I was in college I used to play with a little rock band, just in little music clubs around town. 

B: How cool was that? 

C: Very cool, I think. I had a lot of fun. 

B: That was just a college thing? You don’t play that kind of music any more? 

C: Well, yes, I do. Um, did. A few years ago I started playing at the Public Market on Saturdays during the summer. Mostly I played rock music there too. People seemed to like it. 

B: I’ll bet they did, it sounds awesome. Was your band there, or…?

C: No, just me, sometimes a student or two. For awhile I was playing w-with… 

B: Playing with who? 

C: … 

B: Hey doc, you okay? That kleenex is there for a reason. 

C: I’m not crying. 

B: Of course not. Do you want to tell me who you were playing with? 

C: N-no. Not right now. 

B: Okay, another time then. It’s about time to stop for today anyway. I forgot I was gonna talk to you about our schedule. We’ll be meeting three days a week for awhile, and if you want to talk in between times, or increase that schedule, just let me know. 

C: Three times a week? That sounds like a lot. 

B: Lotta work to do, my friend. Let’s try that for a few weeks and see how it goes, okay, doc? 

C: All right. And, um… 

B: Yeah? 

C: ...please call me Cas. 

B: Great, thanks. See you Wednesday, Cas.


	27. Chapter 27

Dean jiggled his foot impatiently, phone to his ear, listening to it ringing on the other end. 

_“ ‘lo?”_

“Gabe, it’s Dean, Dean Winchester.” 

Silence. 

“Gabe, you still there?” 

_“Yeah, I’m here.”_ Gabe sighed. _“What do you want, Dean?”_

Dean blinked, caught off guard by Gabe’s blunt tone. “Well, um, I just…” He gulped and tried again. “I was wondering if you had any more information about how to get in touch with Cas, or maybe you’ve talked to him, have a number for him?” He forced himself to stop talking, and listened for the answer, holding his breath. 

Long pause. _“No, I don’t.”_

Dean waited for more, frowning into the silence. “That’s it? That’s your answer?” 

_“Can’t tell you what I don’t know, pal. Anything else?”_

Dean took the phone away from his ear to stare at it, shocked and starting to get angry. “Gabe, Jesus, what the hell? Do you at least know how Cas is doing?” 

_“Last I heard he was okay, getting better. Dean, not that it’s not a barrel of monkeys chatting with you, but I have t-”_

“Gabe, for - What’s wrong with you? Why are you being such a jerk?” 

Another sigh, and when Gabe spoke again his voice was quieter, softer. _“Sorry, Dean. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be ugly about this. I just don’t have anything to tell you, which bites the big one but there it is. I’m sorry, man.”_

Dean sighed shakily and squeezes his eyes shut. A long shot maybe, but he’d really hoped Gabe would take pity on him and - “Yeah, okay, I get it. Thanks anyway.” 

_“Don’t thank me, I didn’t do anything worth gettin’ thanked for. Talk to you later.”_

“Okay, later.” Dean stood there holding the phone, chewing his lip and thinking, and then dialed Anna, his face set. He could hear one ring, then another, then a click, and Anna began speaking: loud, sharp, angry. 

_“Dean, I told you the last three times you called, I have nothing to tell you, nothing to say to you. I’m sorry that things are the way they are, but harassing me over the phone is not going to change anything.”_

“Harassing? Anna, I’m just checking in, I have the right to-” 

_“You don’t have the right to do anything! This is Cas’ decision, and he was very clear. I must ask you not to call again.”_

“Anna, please, just wait -” 

_“NO. That’s it, I’m done. Do not call me again.”_ Click. Dean leaned against the wall, and then slid down it to sit on the floor. He stared unseeing at the opposite wall, his mind whirling. _What am I supposed to do, Cas? How could you leave me like this and not say a word?_ He drew his knees up, dropping his head onto his folded arms. The phone dropped to the floor at his feet. 

_What am I supposed to do?_

 

Dean started thinking of his life in two chunks: before and after. Before, when he was working at a job that drove him nuts some days but that he really loved; when he was hanging out with his friends and his brother, his little homemade family; when he met the love of his life and was just beginning to learn how to share his life and himself with someone he loved who loved him back. After, on the other side of catastrophe, a crevasse separating him from everything he took joy in. The weirdest effect of the After was that he couldn’t remember, when he woke up in the morning, what day it was, what he was supposed to do or where to go. Making coffee and standing on the deck seemed to be the extent of his abilities. 

He was watching the birds at the feeder - he’d finally remembered to feed them, mostly out of an obscure feeling that Cas would grump at him if he forgot to look after them, and he was sipping coffee and smiling at their antics, when the door behind him opened suddenly. He could feel his heart leap with surprise, with hope, and he gasped as he whirled around. 

“Cas??” 

Ellen smiled sadly at him, her eyes sorrowful. “Oh honey, no, I’m sorry, it’s just me.” 

Flustered, embarrassed, Dean gulped, turning away slightly to wipe his eyes. “Sorry, Ellen, I was just - I was thinking about - something else.” His voice failed him; he tried to smile, and she winced. 

“Oh baby, come here.” Ellen slipped her arms around him, hugging him close. Dean struggled for a moment to keep his composure, then gave it up as a lost cause. They were both sniffling when they broke apart. Ellen peered up at him. 

“Well, I was gonna ask how you are but I guess I can see for myself. I wish I knew what to do to help you, sweetheart.” 

Dean sighed and wiped his face on his shirt. “I’m all right, Ellen. I mean, mostly, I guess.” 

“Really?” Ellen looked at him skeptically. “You wouldn’t be bullshitting me, would you?” 

“I’d be stupid to try.” Dean smiled, holding onto Ellen’s hand. It occurred to him that she was the closest thing he’d had to a mother for most of his life, and he was so grateful for her now. 

“You’re right, I’m not really okay. I can barely remember what day it is most of the time. It’s kind of a weird feeling, like I’m standing to one side watching me stumble around.” Dean gave himself a shake. “Sorry, god, I sound pathetic. Sorry.” 

Ellen squeezed his hand, and scowled at him. “Don’t you apologize. You’re not pathetic, you’re grieving.” Dean couldn’t stop the choked sound he made, and she gave him a brief hug. “It’s all right, you have a perfect right to feel like crap and stagger around trying to figure out what to do next.” 

Dean stood quietly, still holding Ellen’s hand, wishing with all his heart to go back in time just a few months, back when he knew what to do no matter what happened, when he believed he could fix anything that was broken. 

Ellen watched him for a few minutes, and then tugged gently on his hand. “Got some more of that coffee?” 

 

Inside, they settled in the breakfast nook with coffee and a plate of cookies. Ellen took a sip, and then rested her hand on Dean’s. 

“Honey, I have something I want to talk to you about, and I hope you’ll listen and not say no before I even finish.” Dean scowled at her, and she smirked back. “I know you, boy, and I don’t want you slamming the door before you’ve heard me out. Okay? Promise?” 

“Okay, okay. What is it?” Dean watched her warily. 

For a long moment Ellen didn’t say anything, just looked out the window at the garden. She sighed. 

“When Jo’s daddy died I thought I wasn’t ever going to come out of the fog. I had days and weeks at a time where I could barely get my feet on the floor in the morning. I didn’t work for a long time, and thank god I had people around to help out because I couldn’t have held down a job to save me. I guess I’m saying I know how you feel, or I think I do. Nothing makes sense anymore, right?” 

Dean nodded, clutching his coffee mug, unable to speak. 

“What finally - well, I was gonna say snapped me out of it, but it was a lot more gradual than that. It didn’t happen overnight. But what finally helped me was counseling.” 

“Ellen…” Dean slumped back in his seat, grimacing. Ellen squeezed his hand. 

“Hey, you promised you’d hear me out.” She smiled sympathetically. “It was the last thing I wanted to hear too, but a friend of mine kept after me, said it was the only thing that kept him from going crazy after his wife died. He recommended a grief counselor, and I will always bless him for that because it was the only thing that helped me sort out what happened to me. It wasn’t easy, some days it felt like things were worse than before, but after awhile it started getting better. 

“Dean, I’m not saying it’s time to forget the past and get on with your life, or anything like that. I’m just offering you an idea that helped me figure out how to go on living no matter what.” She paused, her lips pressed tightly together, for so long that Dean looked over at her. She looked like she was struggling to compose herself, and he turned toward her, holding her hand in both of his. Finally she looked up at him, smiling softly. 

“What I can tell you is that it won’t fix anything. It won’t make it stop hurting. Maybe it’ll help you deal with the pain, and maybe after awhile the pain will be less. I’d love it if you could find a way to do that.” Her eyes filled, and Dean leaned forward to kiss her cheek. 

“I promise I’ll think about it. I’m having a tough time, you’re not wrong about that. It just feels like - doing something like that is, y’know, giving up, or something. I’m not - I’m not ready to write him off, to just give up on…” Dean gestured around at the the house, garden, the life they’d made here. He wiped his eyes and kept his head turned away, gazing unseeingly out the window, and when he spoke again his voice was barely a whisper. “I promise I’ll think about it.”

Ellen sighed and squeezed his hand as she got to her feet. “All right, sweetheart, that’s all I can ask. And hey, I’m expecting you for dinner sometime this week. No, no, don’t even bother. If you say no I’ll just come over here and cook it.” She scowled down at Dean, one hand on her hip. 

Dean looked thoughtfully back up at her. “Hmmm, that might be okay. You’re gonna clean up afterward, right?” 

He grinned as Ellen smacked his shoulder. “All right, smartass, I’m outta here. Call you in a couple days?” He nodded, and let her hug him again. “See you soon, baby. Remember what I said.” 

“I will. I mean, if I don’t you’ll just say it again, so…” She laughed and waved over her shoulder as she went; he watched her head out the door, and turned to look back out into the garden, his smile fading.


	28. Chapter 28

Session notes 

B: Dr. Pamela Barnes  
C: Cas Novak

 

B: You seem pretty angry this morning. Does that sound accurate? 

C: Yes, I suppose I am. I have a lot to be angry about, wouldn’t you say? 

B: Damn right. In fact, I think in your situation I’d be tearing down the paneling with my bare hands. Or maybe, tear the head off the guy who did this to me. That about right? 

C: No. I mean, yes, I’m angry at him. He hurt a lot of people. But he’s in jail, he pled guilty to a whole string of assaults including mine, he’ll never get out of prison. He’ll never hurt anyone again. 

B: Oh. So you’re not mad at him any more. 

C: *sigh* I don’t know, I suppose not. I’m trying to put it behind me. Isn’t that what rehab is for? To get past what happened and move on? 

B: Sure, that’s the goal. How do you think that might be done? Besides the physical therapy, obviously. I mean everything else. 

C: *long pause* Well, I suppose it must be similar to the physical work I’m doing. Keep practicing the exercises, keep stretching the muscle, so to speak, until my strength returns and I can go forward with my life. 

B: Sounds pretty efficient. So when that day comes, when you’ve gotten past everything that happened and you’re ready to move on, what will you do? What do you think that would look like? 

C: Well, I...ah, I’m not really… I don’t know. I.. I haven’t really thought about it. 

B: I see. I have a little secret to tell you, my dear. I think you’re a fantastic candidate for the kind of physical and emotional recovery that will mean you get to leave this tiny little cave and go back to your life - but only after you’re able to get at all that anger. No, no, I get it, I heard you, you’re putting it behind you. Except from here it looks like that little Dutch boy with his finger in the dike, and I’m not sure that’ll work for long, Cas. I mean, at some point you are gonna leave this place, lovely as it is. You have a place to live, right? And a job waiting for you? 

C: I don’t… Seattle, is that what you mean? Go back to Seattle? 

B: Sure, if that’s what you want. 

C: But I don’t… I’m a musician, I told you that. I don’t know if I can even play any more. 

B: Have you tried? 

C: … 

B: Cas, have you tried to-

C: I’m afraid to, all right?? I know I’m not as strong as I was, my fingers and my arms don’t respond as well as they did! What if I can’t - what I don’t get better? What if I can’t ever play like that again?? 

B: ...here, take the kleenex. You know my rule: everybody gets to cry in this room, even me sometimes. It’s all right, Cas, it’s okay to grieve about this. You’ve had a pretty huge trauma, and there are no guarantees about recovering from the injuries you’ve suffered. Traumatic brain injury heals slowly, and sometimes it doesn’t come back to status quo. But I’ve seen the scans and the reports, and I talk to your doctors regularly, you know that, right? 

C: ...yes. 

B: Okay. I know you know this, cause I know they’ve told you everything. The only lasting physical effect they can see is that your injured leg will probably not function as well as the other one. You’ll likely be able to run, work out, climb stairs, all that stuff - just slower. You might have to use a cane for awhile, but that’ll improve slowly too. You’ll notice a lot of little changes in your brain too, like memory retention, slower cognitive functions, maybe some emotional swings. But all those things will get better with time. The doctors tell me that you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you, but they expect you’ll make a nearly full recovery. 

C: Nearly. 

B: Yeah, not all the way, my friend, sorry. We still have a lot to learn about the way our neurological system works. I’ve always thought of that as encouragement, y’know? When you get right down to it, we really don’t know what the limits are. Maybe there aren’t any. 

C: So you think since I’m going to get better and get most of my life back, I should push away my anger?? 

B: Not saying that, in fact just the opposite. You let yourself feel that pissed-offness, buddy, you feel every bit of it. Sometimes that’s the best tool you’ve got. Hey, question about something you just said: you said, get most of my life back. What did you mean, most of? 

C: Well, you just said- 

B: No no, I said you’ll get most of your neurological function back. That’s your brain, not your life. What part of your life do you think you can’t get back? 

C: [long silence] I’m afraid about the, the playing, my music. It’s been such a huge part of my life, for most of my life. I can’t - I can barely let myself think about what it would be like to not have that any more. 

B: Tell me a little about your musical life. 

C: What do you mean?

B: Well, you play cello, you said, right? 

C: Yes, I think I told you, I play with the Seattle Symphony, first chair cello. Well, I did. [silence] I had a number of students as well, college level and a few high school students too. I miss them so much, I hope they’re… 

C: ...

B: So, classical music then. 

C: Well, not entirely. 

B: You’re smiling. What’s that about? 

C: I was remembering when I was a student at the university. I lived off-campus with a group of musicians, rock musicians. It didn’t take them long to recruit me into playing with them at their weekend gigs. 

B: I remember you telling me a little about that. That must have been quite a sight, a cello onstage with a bunch of rockers. 

C: Yes, it was unique, I think. One of the other musicians played the violin, so when I expressed some skepticism about playing the cello with them she sort of browbeat me into coming along. [sigh] Those were such good times, maybe the best times I’ve ever had playing music. 

B: So what happened to them after you all graduated? 

C: Most of them left town, so our gigs stopped. But shortly after graduation I was hired by the U as a music professor, and shortly after that I started playing sometimes down at the Market. 

B: You said that before, I wanted to ask you - you played at a grocery store? 

C: [laughing] No, no. Seattle has a large public market downtown, a kind of farmers’ market except it’s so much more. Anyway, there’s a large stairwell at one end that has marvelous acoustics, and there’s usually somebody in there playing on weekend days, busking, you know. You can make a little money and gain some excellent experience. I really loved doing that, it was almost like being back with my housemates. 

B: That sounds amazing. Did you mostly do rock music at the Market then? 

C: Mostly, yes. That’s how… 

B: Cas? 

C: That’s [unintelligible] Dean. 

B: You met Dean at the Market? That’s your guy, right? 

C: Yes - well, he’s not really my guy any more, I don’t think. 

B: Huh. Let’s put a pin in that for right now. You were saying about meeting him? 

C: It was - it’s a funny story. 

B: I’m listening. 

C: He heard me playing, and approached me afterward with some smartass remark about cello music, and I’m afraid I snapped at him rather strongly. 

B: Wow, off to a good start. Why did you do that, do you think? 

C: [unintelligible] criticism very well.

B: You don’t? Can you tell me more about that? 

C: [unintelligible] 

B: Let’s try that again. How did you feel when he made that wisecrack? 

C: I felt - I remember I got angry so quickly, it was like striking a match. I think he stepped back rather abruptly. 

B: I’ll bet. Do you remember what was going on in your head, what you were thinking? 

C: Hmmm… Oh. 

B: Oh what? You look like you’re remembering something. 

C: Y-yes, I was thinking of - it was as though I was hearing my mother talking to me, scolding me, telling me I wasn’t trying hard enough, or something. Strange, I haven’t thought of that in a long time. 

B: That sounds like it might be important, Cas, something we’ll talk about more. Our time’s about up for today, but this was really good work. See you tomorrow about the same time? 

C: Yes, uh… 

B: You okay? 

C: Fine. Just...thinking. 

B: Good. Keep doing that. See you tomorrow, my friend.


	29. Chapter 29

**jharvelle** _hey bobby, you heard from dean?_

 **rsinger** _no you know i was outta town last week  
Whats up? _

**jharvelle** _he hasn’t been in for a few days, not answering fone._

**rsinger** _thats weird. you know if he’s been sick or something?_

**jharvelle** _you mean besides the obvious?_

 **rsinger** … 

**harvelle** _bobby?_

**rsinger** _okay now im worried. have you talked to sam?_

**jharvelle** _he’s next on my list to call. will do that now._

**rsinger** _OK keep me posted_

 **jharvelle** _k_

 

 

Sam turned the corner onto Hillcrest as the street lights clicked on. The last of the sunlight was fading from the pictures windows along the front of Dean and Cas’ house. _Maybe I should be thinking of it as Dean’s house now_ , Sam thought as he parked and turned off the ignition. He sighed, looking up at the porch. As much as he wanted to be there for Dean, he couldn’t make himself move for a minute, just sat in the car watching the house and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. 

For the first time Sam couldn’t muster the optimism he’d been offering his brother all these weeks; he couldn’t convince himself there was anything left to be optimistic about. For whatever reason, Cas had chosen to deal with his tragedy somewhere else, and it was starting to look like he wasn’t ever coming back. Sam shook his head, pushed open the car door and pulled himself out, feeling exhausted already. 

He climbed the steps and crossed the porch, peering in the living room window. The interior looked pretty dark. If he hadn’t seen Dean’s car in the driveway he might have assumed Dean wasn’t at home. Sam tried the front door; it was unlocked, so he stepped inside, cautious and uncertain. 

“Hey Dean, it’s Sam. You here?” 

Silence. Sam moved further into the house, peeking in the office and the kitchen by turns. 

“Dean? You awake?” Sam started up the stairs slowly, realizing part-way up that there was a light on somewhere above him. When he rounded the corner into the open space at the top of the stairs, he could see that the door to the bedroom suite was part-way open. The light was coming from in there. Sam pushed the door open carefully. 

“Dean?” 

“Yeah, Sam, I’m here.” Dean’s voice was faint, and after a moment Sam saw him standing outside on the widow’s walk, looking out over the rooftops across the street and toward the water. Light from the sunset was striking the showery drifts of rain over the islands, making them glow. 

“Hey, you okay? Haven’t talked to you for a few days. Jo said -” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Yeah, I can see that. Jo told me you haven’t been into the office this week.” 

“Jo called you?” 

Sam snorted, exasperated. “ _Yes_ , Jo called me. You haven’t been in, you didn’t call in, nobody’s heard from you, you’re not answering your phone. I think one of your incredibly thoughtful neighbors gathered up a week’s worth of newspapers so it doesn’t look like you’ve moved away and left no forwarding address. They’re in the basket on the porch. You’re obviously _not_ fine, Dean.” 

Dean sighed and turned his head further away. “Sorry, I know I’ve been - off.” 

“Off, right.” Sam scowled down at his feet and then swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t come over here to yell at you. Just - of course we’re all concerned, it’s not like you to go off the grid like this. But I shouldn’t be sniping at you. I’m sorry.” 

“Nah, it’s okay, Sam. I’m the one who should apologize. I can imagine Bobby’s been climbing the walls, I know how he gets. I should’ve -” 

“Yeah, you probably should’ve. Mostly I just want to know you’re okay, see how you’re doing with, with all this. I mean, Jo said you’d been coming into work half-days for awhile, and then all of a sudden… What can I do?” 

Dean was quiet for several minutes, and Sam was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get an answer - until he realized Dean was crying, almost silently but his face was wet, with more tears coming all the time. Sam was about to reach out to him when Dean spoke, hoarse and halting. 

“I don’t understand, Sam. I’ll never understand. What did I do wrong?” 

“You? You didn’t - “ 

“Then why did he leave like that? I just wanted to help him, t-to be there for him.” Dean gulped and wiped at his face. “He’s always been there for me, he puts up with so much shit from me, it was my turn, y’know? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him, but I didn’t - he didn’t even give me a chance!” He was full-on weeping now, breath hitching, hands clenched. “I love him so much, Sam. I don’t - if he wants - he didn’t even -” 

“I know, Dean, I know.” Sam slipped an arm around his brother’s shoulders and squeezed, holding on tight. “I’m a little pissed about it, to be honest. He should have respected you enough to at least tell you himself instead of -” 

“Don’t, Sam.” Dean’s voice hardened. “Don’t badmouth him to me. I know him, he had to have had his reasons. I just - I wish he’d told me so I wouldn’t have to wonder.” 

“Yeah, that would have helped a little, at least. Sorry, Dean.” Sam kept his arm where it was, and after a minute he felt some of the tension in Dean’s body ease a little. Dean heaved a shaky breath out and leaned into Sam. 

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I’m not a quitter, I don’t give up on people, but I -” He broke off, struggling for composure. “I called Gabe a few days ago.” 

“Gabe?” 

“Yeah, they’ve been pals since they were kids. Gabe knows Cas’ story, better than I do, probably.” 

“Hmm.” Sam looked out at the sky, now nearly dark. “So what did Gabe say?” 

“He said…” Dean trailed off, looking away. His voice dropped to a near-whisper. “He wouldn’t tell me much, nothing about where Cas is or how to get hold of him. Sounded like he really didn’t know much, and he did sound sorry.” Dean sighed. “Talked to Anna too, or rather listened while she yelled at me. She said it was Cas’ decision, that he was real clear about it. She told me not to call again.”

“But that’s - that’s just stupid! And it’s selfish! He’s just -” Sam sputtered to a stop at the look on Dean’s face, then took a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m sorry, Dean. I just don’t get why he’s so adamant about running away from this, from - from you.” He looked worriedly at his brother’s face.

“I know, Sam. But I’ve been thinking about - about how hard this is for him, y’know? I’m guessing he’s afraid he won’t be able to play the way he did before. That’s gotta be like, like having a limb cut off or something. He just…” Dean ran out of steam abruptly. Sam watched his face: grief-stricken, miserable, torn between wanting to help Cas and wanting what was best for him. Sam had to swallow hard before he could speak again. 

“You’re right, Dean. I’m sure it’s awful for him. I wish we could - I know you want to help. But if he won’t let you...” 

A single sob escaped Dean. He gulped, scrubbed his face with his sleeve, turned toward Sam and looked straight into his eyes. Dean’s face was twisted with sorrow, his eyes red and anguished. Sam flinched, and then reached out to grasp Dean’s arm. 

“I can’t help wondering - maybe I need to let him go, Sam. I’m not giving up on him. I just don’t know what to do. Some nights I sit here in our house and it feels like he’s not ever coming back, and what the hell am I gonna do if that happens? I hate this so much, I hate that this happened to him, I hate that he’s having to pick up all these pieces and try to put his life back together, and I can’t help him. Gabe says he’ll be okay, but I - I don’t understand.” His voice broke; his head dropped, and he broke down, one hand covering his eyes, weeping heartbrokenly. Sam felt tears in his own eyes; he reached out half blindly to wrap his arms around Dean’s shoulders. 

“Maybe it’s time to move on,” he choked out, rubbing Dean’s back with one hand. He could feel Dean sigh and lean on him a little more. After a minute Dean pushed back gently and turned to look out at the water, the dark mountains in the distance, the stars winking on as the sky slowly cleared. 

“I don’t know if I can, Sam. I don’t know how.” Dean’s voice was soft, unsteady. Sam winced again. 

“Then maybe what we need to do is find you someone to talk to.” 

A moment’s silence, and then Dean spoke, almost inaudibly. “Ellen came to see me the other day.” 

Sam blinked. “Really? What was that about?” 

“Actually, she said the same thing that you just did. That I need to, to talk to somebody, like a grief counselor or something. She said after her first husband died a friend of hers suggested that to her, and it really helped, I guess. So I’ve been thinking about it.” 

“Well… Well, yeah. That’s a good idea. I’ll bet Ellen or Jess could recommend somebody. I’ll talk to Jess when I get home, how’s that?” 

Dean nodded wearily. “Yeah, do that, and let me know what you find out. I just don’t think I can keep going like this.” 

Sam hugged him again, suddenly afraid. “Then let’s get you somebody to help you.” 

Dean nodded again and leaned against Sam. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet Sam could barely hear him. 

“Thanks, Sammy.” 

“Yeah, sure. Just taking a page out of Bobby’s book.” 

“...Bobby?” 

Sam smiled, elbowing Dean gently. “Who do you think that friend was, the one that helped Ellen?” 

Dean snorted and shook his head, laughing tiredly. Sam grinned at him, and then looked back out over the water. They sat together for a long time, quietly watching the light fade from the sky.


	30. Chapter 30

Sweating, panting, he could feel his heart pounding. Arms rigid and locked, hands clutching the rails, slick with sweat. His good leg trembling with the effort to hold him upright and steady; bad leg wobbling, weaving, weak as a newborn’s. _C’mon, just one, just move, don’t stop, keep pushing_ \- his internal voice almost drowned out the physical therapist, standing beside him, close but not touching, his arms positioned just in case, talking steadily and calmly. He was screaming inside, yelling at himself, silently, desperately. MOVE! And it did, his right foot lifted up, just a little but completely clear of the floor. Slowly he moved it forward, until it was a few inches ahead of the the other foot. He shifted his weight, stepped forward with the left foot, shifted again, stopped, holding on, trembling and drenched with sweat. 

“That’s great, Cas, good job. Rest a minute and we’ll take another step.” 

Cas nodded, leaned down to rest his forehead against the back of his hand, eyes closed. _Just keep breathing._

.

Session notes

B: Dr. Barnes  
C: Cas Novak

 

B: So how’s it going? How’s your PT progressing? 

C: Uh… I feel like I was never in shape at all. I barely have the strength to stand on my feet. I spent the entire session this morning trying to take a step. One step. Felt like it took hours. 

B: You took the step, right? 

C: Yes, but - 

B: Okay, that’s progress, right? And then what happened? 

C: I took another step. 

B: That’s right, you took another one, and then another, and another, right? 

C: Yes, of course. 

B: So you don’t look particularly happy about that. 

C: Well, it’s - I’m weak, out of shape, so much… 

B: What, Cas? So much what? 

C: … 

B: C’mon, big guy, spit it out. What’s going on in there? 

C: I’m used to feeling strong, capable, independent. People count on me. Or they did. Now I’m just, I can’t play, I can’t teach, I can’t walk, I can barely stand up. What am I if I’m not….

B: Not what? That strong, capable, reliable person? That amazing musician, that teacher? 

C: ...yes. 

B: Listen, Cas. You’re still all those things. The amazing human that lived that big life is sitting here right in front of me. Nothing important has changed, trust me. 

C: That’s ridiculous. I used to run for miles, play rock and roll with, with Dean in the morning and glorious symphonies in the evening. I used to teach, help kids find their creative voice. I can’t do that now! Look at this stupid - I can’t even make my body do the most basic things! 

B: Your body will remember, Cas, it’s all still in there. Right now your body’s having a bit of a rough go, that’s all. You might have to figure out different ways to do it, but that part’s simple. You just have to choose to do the work. 

C: You make it sound like it’s nothing, choosing to do it when I’m, I’m crippled! 

B: I don’t know you that well yet, Cas, but I do know this: musicians are like all accomplished artists. You have tremendous discipline. You work away at something, a new piece or a different instrument, until you’ve got it, it’s yours. This is just like that, I promise. 

I’ll tell you something else, something I’ve seen a lot of people with the kind of physical trauma you’ve experienced really struggle with. We humans are conditioned to think of our physical bodies as who we are. Our lives are affected so much by our physicality, we get to putting all our energy into that, and forget there’s a difference between these bodies and our real selves. But here’s the thing: you aren’t your body. You have a body; you _are_ a soul. Understand? 

C: … 

B: Hey. Hey, here’s the tissue, pal. What are those tears? 

C: I’m so afraid, Pamela. I’m afraid I won’t get my music back. I’ve had that all my life, even when everything else was awful. What if I can’t play any more? 

B: That’s a big, scary one, huh? Have you started working with the music therapist yet? 

C: No. Brian has me working on a lot of hand and arm exercises. 

B: Good ol’ Brian, he’s a drill sergeant, isn’t he? Going by his notes, I think he’s planning to refer you to the music guy in a week or so, depending on how you progress. What d’you think? 

C: ….oh. So soon? 

B: Yeah, pretty soon. You wimping out on me? 

C: No, I won’t, I just - it’s frightening. I’m looking forward to it, I guess, but I’m afraid. 

B: I know, I get it. You want the answer to the question, but the possibilities are scary. Hmm… Where are you right now? How are you feeling? 

C: ...it’s odd, I feel... loss. Like it’s already been taken away from me. 

B: You mean your music, or are we talking about something else? 

C: I’ve lost so much, I don’t want to give up any more. 

B: Okay. You mean your physical loss, your strength and dexterity, right? And your ability to play music? Your work? 

C: Yes, all those things. 

B: What else? What else have you lost that you’re grieving for now? 

C: My life. My life with… 

B: With Dean? 

C: ...yes. 

B: Look, Cas, our time’s just about up, but I’m gonna give you some homework. When you have a little time and you’re feeling relaxed, maybe first thing in the morning right after you wake up, I want you to take a few minutes and close your eyes, let your mind travel back to the things you miss, especially your life with Dean. Your house, the things you like to do together, little things about him that you treasure. Just sit with that for awhile, let yourself feel whatever comes up. It doesn’t matter what you feel, there’s no wrong way to feel. Everything counts. And then spend ten or fifteen minutes writing down as much of it as you have words for. Don’t edit or censor, just let it roll. I’d like you to do that every day for awhile, okay? 

C: Y-yes, all right. Should I bring it in with me next time? 

B: Let’s say you bring the pages or journal or whatever once a week, we can talk about what comes up. How’s that sound?

C: Ugh. 

B: [laughing] Yeah, that whole no-pain-no-gain thing really bites. But the only way out is through, y’know?. All right, get out of here, get something to eat so you’re ready for Brian’s torture session this afternoon. 

C: Okay. Thanks, Pamela. 

B: Yep. See ya later.


	31. Chapter 31

Dean had lived in the Northwest long enough to have gotten used to the increasing darkness during the fall and into the holidays, but somehow this year it was worse, harder to adjust to. It seemed like it was always dark, shadowy and close. He found himself feeling claustrophobic. 

Since his last abortive call with Gabe, Dean had tried a few more times, but after a couple of angry, miserable conversations Gabe stopped picking up, just let the calls go to voicemail. He’d finally sent Dean a text: _I can’t do it, pal. If that changes I’ll let you know._ Dean knew Gabe was trying to be loyal to his friend, but it still felt like a door slamming in his face. A thousand times he’d picked up the phone to try Anna again, but he could still hear her voice, sharp and cold: _don’t call me again._ He couldn’t face that again. 

After a few weeks Dean managed to increase his time at work; he still couldn’t face being there all day, but going in super early and working until lunchtime felt more doable. He realized after awhile that he was slacking terribly, managing only about half his usual workload. He also realized that the entire staff was taking up the slack smoothly and unobtrusively, nobody so much as poked fun at him. They were all kind and supportive and careful with him, and picked up the extra work without a murmur. He was incredibly grateful, and disgusted with himself that it didn’t change anything, didn’t make him feel any better. 

Just after Halloween, Mary Ellen Winchester made her appearance, several days late and very loudly. Sam had called Dean from the car, Jess grunting and yelling in the background; he begged Dean to come to the hospital, and he sounded so young and scared Dean couldn’t refuse. It was a long night, with most of Dean’s energy divided between checking in with Sam in the labor room and pacing in the hallway. There was an awful moment when he went to check on them and discovered they were gone, and the world tilted under his feet for a minute. His panicked brain convinced him something terrible had happened, they were gone for good and he was all alone. A nurse came looking for him, asked if he wanted to meet his niece, and led him to the recovery room. That snapped him out of it, and for a moment, holding this tiny scrap of humanity with Sam’s pointed chin and Jess’ blonde curls, he felt peaceful. 

Christmas, by contrast, was awful. The weather hovered indecisively between the usual rain showers and what the forecasters called a wintry mix. The streets were a mess, sloppy and dirty, ugly to drive on and equally unpleasant to walk on. Everything matched his frame of mind: gloomy, darkening, hopeless. He tried to beg off the holiday gathering, but Ellen informed him if he didn’t come they would just bring it to him. It was good not to sit at home alone, but only just; he spent most of the afternoon and evening sitting a little apart from the festivities, picking at his food, stacking up his presents to open later. Thankfully, nobody bugged him, or tried to cheer him up or insist that he join in. He checked out early, accepted hugs all around without much enthusiasm. Ellen walked him out, arm in arm, not saying anything except _glad you came, honey_ just before he got in his car. 

Dean spent New Year’s Eve alone at the house. He cooked himself a good dinner, finally opened the Christmas presents that had been sitting on the hall table untouched for a week, decided after five minutes of _It’s A Wonderful Life_ that sappy holiday movies probably weren’t a good idea. Just before midnight he went out on the deck with a glass of wine. It looked pretty empty with all the furniture stacked away in the storage shed, the winter garden cleaned up and waiting for spring; the empty hot tub Cas had insisted on, teasing Dean about wanting to recreate their Doe Bay getaway. Shaking himself, Dean peered around at the frozen garden, the empty bird feeder. _Damn, I need to fill that again, feed Cas’ birds._ Tears stung his eyes; he looked up at the first sound of firecrackers, his throat aching, and gazed beyond them at the stars, peeking through the shifting clouds. 

_Happy New Year, Cas._


	32. Chapter 32

Session notes

B: Dr. Barnes  
C: Cas Novak

 

B: Hey, Cas, come on in, get comfy. How you doing? 

C: I’m all right. I actually walked almost a mile yesterday. I’m getting stronger. 

B: Wow, that’s pretty great! How’d you feel after? 

C: Very tired and sore, but - exhilarated, I suppose. It was nice to move around on my own, and it was great to be outside. A little overwhelming, but I’ve missed seeing the sky, feeling the breeze. Do you know what I mean?

B: I do know. It’s like being released from prison. I’m really glad you did that, hope you’ll keep gettin’ out there. What else is going on? 

C: I’ve had a couple of phone calls in the last few days. I called Gabe and we talked for a few minutes. At his suggestion I gave Anna a call as well. 

B: How’d that go? 

C: Well, it was a little upsetting. She’s, um… I think this has all brought up a lot of emotion for here around Jimmy’s death. We sort of had a little cry together. I think she felt better afterward. I hope so. 

B: Me too. How about you? You feel any better, or different, after you talked with her? 

C: Somewhat. I... it’s still hard for me to talk about Jimmy, I miss him so much. I’m so angry about his life, how cheated he was of the life he could have had, was meant to have. And I… 

B: What? What else, Cas? 

C: It’s just that… I don’t resent Jimmy, I loved him so much, he was - but there’s a little part of me that resented him when we were young, especially. My parents gave him so much attention, there was never anything left for the rest of us. 

B: Especially you. 

C: Well, I don’t know that that’s true, I mean, Anna was there too. 

B: She’s older, right? She was around for a few years before you guys came along. She got a lot of attention and support, right? 

C: Well… Yes, I suppose so. She… Huh. I never thought much about this before, but I seem to remember she had piano lessons, summer camp, birthday parties at friends’ houses, all those little extras. 

B: And you? 

C: I don’t… I don’t think so. Now that I think of it, I don’t remember if it was from neglect, or because I was so shy and my parents didn’t push me to make friends, invite people for a birthday party, all of that. I… Isn’t that strange? I don’t remember it clearly. 

B: Not strange, not really. We often don’t remember details from childhood, or remember them out of order or distorted. Sometimes things that were traumatic, or even just remarkable for some reason, are remembered differently. It’s a brain thing. Doesn’t mean you’re mistaken, just that your brain has edited your memories. What matters is how you see those things now, as an adult. 

C: Hmm… When I think of it now, I feel some resentment even toward Anna. 

B: Because…? 

C: Because she got those parties, she had a lot of friends and activities out of the house, and my parents paid a lot of attention to Jimmy, and I… When I look back, I see a lot of neglect. And it feels like I wasn’t important to anyone, that I didn’t deserve the kind of attention my siblings had. 

B: Is that what your parents said to you? 

C: What? Yes, they...well, I suppose they didn’t actually say that exactly, not in so many words. But that was definitely the impression, they couldn’t have been more clear that they didn’t have time for me. 

B: Cas, I want to ask you a question, one of those questions without an agenda, you know what I’m saying? I’m asking for information only. Okay? 

C: Okay. 

B: Is it possible that your parents had something else in mind, that they didn’t think so little of you that they neglected your needs? I’m not excusing them, I’m just wondering if it wasn’t so much turning their backs on you as it was that they just dropped the ball. What do you think? 

C: … 

B: Cas? Did you understand what- 

C: Yes, I… No, they were… I’ll be honest with you, that question just pisses me off, as Dean would say. I’ve lived with this my whole life, knowing they didn’t care about me, that nothing I did would ever be good enough, or make me worth taking a minute of their time away from Jimmy. And you think… 

B: Hold up, my angry friend, I don’t think anything. It’s just a question. 

C: … 

B: Okay, we can come back to that later. Let’s - 

C: No, wait. Sorry, I apologize for my outburst, I’m just… I have to admit this is a new perspective I hadn’t considered. I - I’m not sure what to think. 

B: Hey, don’t apologize for honest emotion. It’s hard to have your applecart overturned like that, I know. And you know what? It’s okay to change your mind, to take a fresh look at things and decide to see it differently. Nobody’s keeping score. 

C: Guess I’m still not very comfortable expressing my anger. It seems like it’s always there just below the surface waiting to boil over, so I usually keep the lid on it. 

B: You sure do, that’s kind of your signature move. I’m hoping you’re beginning to see a different way to handle that. Nothing wrong with anger, it only becomes destructive when you don’t express it for a long time, and then it explodes and levels buildings for a mile around. 

C: Heh. You’re right, I’d rather not do that. 

B: Good. And Cas, the truth is you have plenty to be angry about. The trick is to feel it when it’s happening and expressing it appropriately. Then you’re rid of it, and you can move on to other things. 

C: I just...I’m always afraid that if I get angry the people I care about will, will leave me. They don’t want to deal with that, they just go away. I’m always fearful of driving them away. 

B: Has that happened before? 

C: Yes, of course. I haven’t had many relationships, and the ones I’ve had… Actually, now that I think of it, I always had that fear that seeing the real me, especially my anger and my, my - how messed up I am… I think I ended relationships before the other person could. Well, most of them. 

B: Most of them? Not all of them? 

C: No, not Dean. Dean was always there for me no matter what. 

B: Did you ever get angry at him? Have fights? 

C: Yes, in fact, our relationship sort of started out that way. 

B: Yeah, I remember you told me that story. Didn’t you draw blood that first time? 

C: Metaphorically, perhaps. I did my best to bite his head off. 

B: I’d love to have seen that. But then how did you get from snarling at him to dating? 

C: He was, um, very persistent. Actually, he was just being nice, trying to make it up to me, I think. And finally I just thought: he really is a decent guy, and he’s very attractive… 

B: Ha! Excellent reasoning skills. But seriously, I just want to point out that he wasn’t discouraged by your anger - I’m assuming you were fairly, shall we say, snarky? 

C: Oh yes, possibly even crossing over the line to verbally abusive at times. 

B: And yet he persisted. He wasn’t scared away, quite the opposite, in fact. 

C: Well…yes. You’re right. He never got impatient or responded in kind, he was kind and complimentary and rather dogged. He kept coming back and reaching out. Y’know, that’s an excellent description of his part in our relationship since then too. He’s - steadfast, I suppose you’d say. Always there for me. Committed even when it’s been difficult. 

B: I asked you a few days ago to think about the things you love about Dean, and write a little about that. What did you come up with? 

C: … 

B: Cas? 

C: [unintelligible] ...but of all those things I think I was most amazed by the way he… You would have to know Dean to understand, I think. 

B: Try me anyway. 

C: Well, he’s very - cocky, I suppose, at least it looks that way if you didn’t know better. He behaves as though he knows what he’s doing, almost a dominant personality. But I came to see the man underneath all that, and he’s kind, sweet, generous to a fault, the most loving person I’ve ever met. And he trusted me with himself, that was the amazing part. He trusted me to… 

B: What? What is that face? What are you thinking of right now? 

C: I’m thinking of - the way I left things. I didn’t even really tell him what I was thinking, break up with him. I didn’t even leave him a note. 

B: ...ah. 

C: This is… He deserves so much better than that. Oh my god… After everything he’s done for me, I just turned around and walked out. So to speak. 

B: Why, do you think? Why did you just bug out like that, without a word? 

C: ...I’m not sure. I remember thinking, after I was hurt I remember thinking, this is a lot to ask of him. I didn’t want to dump this on him. 

B: This, meaning, supporting you while you dealt with your injuries and recovery? 

C: Yes, of course. It is a lot to ask. 

B: Yeah, it’s a pretty big deal. But it’s not too much to ask, not from someone who loves you. 

C: … 

B: Time’s up, Cas. I’d like you to spend your writing time this week thinking about this. Especially think about what you’d do if it were Dean who’d been hurt like this, how you’d support him. And then ask yourself why you think he shouldn’t do that for you. 

See you next time. 

 

After a few months Cas was taking walks morning and afternoon, managing longer distance almost every outing. Deep in November, darkness came early enough that he returned from his afternoon walk well before dinnertime. He was just coming in through his patio door when he heard his phone ringing. 

“Hello?” 

_“Cas? Cas, it’s Anna. I hope it’s okay to call?”_

“Anna.” Cas found himself smiling broadly. “Of course it’s okay. It’s always wonderful to hear your voice. How are you?” 

He could hear Anna sniffling on the other end. _“Yours too. I’m well, thank you. I miss you. How are things going?”_

“I miss you too. I’m doing well, feeling stronger every day.” Cas paused to wipe his face, surprised at the sudden tears. 

_“Are you sure you’re okay? Cas?”_

“Yes, sorry, I had to, um… Never mind, I’m fine.” 

_“What do the doctors tell you? How’s the PT going?”_

Cas sank into a chair, grunting slightly. “Slow and steady. I think I’m finally accepting that this is a marathon, not a sprint. My leg is healing well, but it was a pretty serious break. They said it probably won’t ever - I’ll still be active, but not to the extent I was, I think.” 

_“Oh no…”_ Anna’s voice trailed off, and he could hear her blowing her nose. _“I’m sorry, Cas.”_

“Please don’t cry, if you do then I will.” Cas sniffed as though to prove his point, and they both laughed. “Actually, I’m finding myself all over the map emotionally. My doctor says a certain amount of emotional outbursts and mood swings is typical of a brain injury.” 

_“Is that permanent?”_

“Hopefully not. It will definitely get better with time, like so much of these symptoms. Oh, and I started with the music therapist not long ago.” 

_“What does a music therapist do?”_

Cas smiled, remembering their first couple of sessions. “It’s a form of physical therapy, learning to play again, strengthening muscles and stretching and working on fine motor control. It’s wonderful, Annie. I mean, I can barely play but it’s coming back little by little. It feels so wonderful to make music, however inexpert it is at this point.” 

_“Oh Cas, I’m so happy you’re doing that.”_ Anna’s voice was warm. _“I’m so glad.”_

“So am I. It remains to be seen how far I can go, but they’re assuring me a full recovery of my playing skills is an excellent possibility.” 

_“I’m proud of you, brother.”_ There was a slight pause, both of them listening to the other’s breathing, before Anna spoke again. _“Listen, I called to - to ask you something, I suppose. Mother called me a few weeks back very upset. She’d seen a news story about the mugger, and it mentioned you as the most seriously injured victim. I feel - I hadn’t even thought to let her know what had happened.”_

“Oh dear.” Cas squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his stomach clench. “I probably should have called her. I feel badly that she had to find out that way.” 

_“Me too. Anyway, she asked how you were doing. I gave her a general answer, not a lot of specifics but that you were making good progress. She, um, she asked if it was possible for her to call you, or your doctor. I told her I would ask you for permission. She didn’t like that much, in fact we had a little bit of an argument.”_ Anna sighed. _“I’m afraid I lost my temper for a moment. I told her that no matter what she thinks, she doesn’t have the right to demand information, that you have the right to privacy.”_

“That can’t have gone down easily.” 

_“No, not even close. But she wasn’t mad at me, she didn’t yell or try to guilt-trip me or any of the things she usually does. She was - sort of quiet. She cried a little. She said something about how disappointed she was in herself for - I don’t know, for not being a good mother to you, or something. Anyway, before I knew it I was telling her where you were.”_

Cas found himself unable to speak for a moment, hardly breathing. 

_“Cas, I’m sorry, please don’t be mad. She sounded so different than she usually does, genuinely remorseful and concerned. She wants to see you, but I made her promise she wouldn’t drive out there, she would call and talk to the doctor, and that whatever the doctor decided she would accept. About her calling you or visiting, I mean.”_

“Well, that’s quite… I wish you had talked to me first, but maybe this will be a good thing. Hmmm… Let’s do this: in a couple of days tell her that she has my permission to call my therapist, Dr. Barnes. I’ll let her know to expect Mom’s call. She won’t give Mom a lot of details either, but it might be more helpful to hear this from a doctor. What do you think?” 

_“That sounds perfect. That’ll help Mom, I’m sure. Thank you, Cas.”_

“You’re welcome, thanks for dealing with that. Anna, I should go, I haven’t had dinner yet and I’m starting to fade. I’m so glad you called, I hope you will again.” He could feel himself smiling at Anna’s chuckle. 

_“Try and stop me. I love you, Cas. We’ll talk again soon.”_

“I love you too. Good night, Anna.”


	33. Chapter 33

Session notes

B: Dr. Pamela Barnes  
C: Cas Novak 

 

B: Morning, Cas, come on in. Get comfortable, okay? 

C: ...sure. Is everything all right? 

B: Yeah, sorry, I’ve got something to talk over with you and I’m a little hyperfocused, I guess. Sorry. You doing okay? 

C: Yes, yes, I’m fine. Feeling great in fact. I got up early and went for a walk. 

B: Yeah? How far’d you go? 

C: Almost two miles. 

B: Whoa, Mr. Marathon, way to go! Feeling okay? 

C: A little tired, I guess, but good. My leg is a bit sore. I took a hot shower and that seemed to help. 

B: Take painkillers? 

C: Not this morning. I’ve been taking them only at night, and only sometimes. 

B: Well, look at you, going all Rambo. 

C: Not really. I did discuss that with my doctor before I cut back. 

B: I know, I’m just kidding. I’m kinda proud of you. 

C: Oh. Well, good, thanks. 

B: So. Down to business, I’ll cut right to the chase. Your mother did call this week just like you said. 

C: Good. I mean, I think it’s good. Was it all right? You didn’t…?

B: Take it easy, don’t worry, deep breaths, my friend. Relax. I pride myself on honoring patient confidentiality and all that. 

C: ...can you tell me anything about the conversation? 

B: Yeah, sure. She was very relieved to hear how well you’re doing. And she wants to see you. I told her absolutely not, not until we’ve had a chance to talk and you can decide what you want. 

C: Okay. Okay, thank you. 

B: No worries. Cas, you’re driving the boat here. It’s completely up to you what happens next. Got it? 

C: Yes, of course. I apologize for panicking. I know you wouldn’t do that. 

B: No need to apologize. So, d’you want to hear more about our chat? 

C: Oh. Yes, I think so. 

B: Your mom was very apologetic, a little embarrassed, I think. She found out about what happened to you from a news story or something like that. 

C: Yes, Anna told me. I feel a little badly about it. We haven’t exactly been on speaking terms for quite awhile, but that must have been an unpleasant way to learn news like that. 

B: For sure. She was kinda angry at first, I think, but then she realized what you just said, that she hasn’t done much to stay in touch with you. When she calmed down a bit she called your sister, right? 

C: ... 

B: What? 

C: I should have - I should have at least had someone call her. I wasn’t thinking clearly about a lot of things. I feel badly. 

B: Yeah, I think it was pretty tough for her. 

C: She must be furious with me. 

B: Um, well, no, actually. The opposite. You should know that the first thing she said after identifying herself was to ask if you were all right. She was more scared and concerned than anything. In fact I said something like, sorry you had to find out this way, and she brushed me off. She said, no no, that’s not important, I probably deserved that, but how is he really? 

C: Wait, she thinks she deserved…? 

B: Remember when I said it might be possible that you’ve misunderstood things with your mom? 

C: ...yes. I - maybe you’re right. I don’t - what did she say? What does she want? 

B: Well, most of our conversation was about how you’re doing. Of course I couldn’t give her much in the way of specifics. I just reassured her that you were making good progress, that your prognosis for recovery was excellent, that kind of thing. 

C: Good. Thank you for being discreet. 

B: Sure, no prob. As to what she wants, she’d like to come and see you. Long time, eh? 

C: Y-yes. Years, really. I went home after college just long enough to pick up the few things that I still wanted from their house, and I haven’t really been back since. 

B: You haven’t had any interaction with them in all that time? 

C: A few phone conversations that didn’t amount to much. When my father passed away, maybe one or two other times. 

B: No arguments or disagreements? 

C: No, not really. We just - never spoke. 

B: Hmmm. Well, now’s your chance to change that, if you want to. It’s up to you. What do you think? 

C: Oh. Uh. 

B: You don’t have to decide right this - 

C: Actually… Would she be - do you know if she’d come here? If I asked? 

B: Yes, absolutely. She said to tell you she’ll do anything you ask. Just have to let her know. 

C: ...okay. 

B: Is that a yes? Sorry, I just want to be clear. 

C: Yes. Yes, I - I think it’s time we had a real conversation. I just - I’m not sure what to say. 

B: Don’t worry, my friend. We’ll talk about all that. By the time she gets here you’ll be clear, I promise. Let’s see, with us meeting every other day that should - this time next month, you think? 

C: Y-yes. Yes, let’s do that. 

B: Good. Good job, Cas. You’re doing such great work, my dear. I’m proud of you. I’m betting this is going to be a real important moment for you, and her too. 

C: I hope you’re right. God, I’m nervous already.


	34. Chapter 34

When Dean first arrived in Seattle, after growing up in the flat, dry, hot heartland, it took him some time to adjust to the geography and especially the weather. But after a couple of years, he grew accustomed to patio umbrellas, just in case; functioning outside even when it rained; the long darkness of winter. This year, though, it dragged on so interminably that as February approached, he was beginning to think he might be losing his mind. Everything stayed gloomy and damp, as though his dreary headspace was infecting the world around him. 

It turned out Bobby agreed. As Dean had gradually worked back into showing up at the office full-time, Bobby resumed his semi-retirement. Occasionally days or even weeks went by when he didn’t put in an appearance at all, so when he clomped into Dean’s office midday on a Wednesday early in February, all Dean could do was gape at him. Bobby snickered. 

“Better shut that or you’ll start catching flies.” Dean shut his mouth with an audible snap, and Bobby slanted a smile at him. “How you doin, boy?” 

“Okay, I guess. What the hell are you doing here? I’m pretty sure we cancelled your security badge.” Dean managed a smile, feeling his insides getting shaky. He was overwhelmed by the urge to grab Bobby in a hug. 

“I was in the neighborhood, you know how it is. Actually, I have something for you.” Bobby tossed something onto Dean’s desk; it landed with a clinking noise. 

Dean frowned down at a keyring with a couple of keys on it, old and slightly grubby from disuse. “What is this? It looks like -” 

“The keys to the cabin, yeah. Haven’t been up there in awhile, and what with the usual February foolishness going on I thought you might feel like a couple days away.” Bobby scowled down at his hands, carefully not meeting Dean’s eyes. Dean frowned in puzzlement, and then his face fell. 

“Ah. You mean the, uh… Hallmark and chocolate day.” He swallowed hard. 

Bobby looked at him sympathetically. “Yeah. Just wanted you to - have a place to go if you wanted to not be here.” 

“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean picked up the keys and held them tightly, blinking rapidly. “Thanks, I’ll think about it.” 

“Sure. I gotta go, meeting the boss for lunch, she’ll tan my hide if I’m late.” 

Dean grinned. “Give her a squeeze from me.” 

Bobby grunted and raised a hand. “Later.” 

“Yeah. Later.” 

Dean sat for a long time after Bobby left looking down at the keys in his hand. He abruptly pulled his laptop closer, and a few minutes later was peering at Forest Service maps of the Carbon River area, making notes as he went. When he was finished he slapped the computer closed and picked up the phone, standing and slipping his jacket on while he talked. He was out the door in minutes. 

Bobby and Jo stood in the conference room, watching him go. 

“Wow, he’s on a mission. Any idea what’s up there?” Jo glanced over at Bobby, nudging him gently. “Bobby?” 

“A little R&R at the cabin, I hope. I’m thinkin’ he needs a break.” 

Jo sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I dunno if it’ll make a difference, but at least he’ll be out of town for Valentine’s Day. I hate to think of him out there alone, though.” 

Bobby squinted and made a face. “Yeah, me too. But he’s gonna be alone anyway, you know that. At least this way he doesn’t have to sit in that house and mope.” He watched as Dean disappeared into the elevator. “I hope it’ll help him.” 

“Me too.” Jo gave him a one-armed hug. “See you for dinner later?” 

“Yep.” Bobby smiled at her, and she moved out into the hallway, headed to her office. 

 

Dean pulled up in front of the cabin well before dark; he’d left work so early that even stopping to change clothes and grab a few things, pick up some groceries, he had plenty of time to make the trip while it was still light. He busied himself unpacking, dusting and sweeping inside, getting the kitchen clean enough to cook in, preparing supper. By the time all that was done, it was full dark. 

Dean found an old Stanford hoodie in the bedroom closet, left over from Sam’s last visit, no doubt. He smiled crookedly, looking at it and remembering being here for a graduation celebration. They’d managed to stuff a lot of people, food and beer in this little place, and a lot of laughter. He had a moment of wishing he’d found time to bring Cas up here, before time ran out. Now there wouldn’t be another chance. 

Dean yanked the sweatshirt over his head angrily, grabbed a beer and stepped outside onto the small deck overlooking the creek. Too dark to see, but he could hear the rushing, chattering sound of the water running over the rocks. He knew from experience how cold that water was, cold enough to numb you if you stayed in too long. Being numb sounded good at the moment; he sighed and rubbed his face, settled back in the solid old Adirondack chair and stared up through the trees at the stars. Maybe he should make this an annual event, he thought sourly. Maybe he could pretend this was just another day.


	35. Chapter 35

Session notes

B: Dr. Pamela Barnes  
C: Cas Novak  
N: Naomi Novak

 

B: Okay, Cas, I know we talked about this, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. You okay? 

C: Uh, yes, I suppose. I can’t help being apprehensive. 

B: I know, I totally get that. This is a big step, and a scary one. It’s okay to be nervous. 

C: I think I’ve passed up being nervous and moved on to terrified. 

B: Ha! As long as you don’t keel over it’ll be fine. 

C: I don’t think that will happen. I hope. 

B: Me too. So, just to be clear, today is about you being able to tell your mother how you feel about what happened to you in your childhood, what you’ve brought with you into your adult life and how it’s affected you. Remember, everything you feel is okay, there’s nothing wrong with being mad or hurt or crying or anything. It’s important that you be able to speak your mind, your heart. 

C: Yes, I understand. 

B: Okay, I’ll be checking in with you as we go, just to make sure you’re hangin’ in there. I’m wondering how you feel about hearing from her? It’s okay if you just want to talk and have her listen. 

C: Hmmm… I’m not sure. Can I decide as I go, see how I feel? 

B: Sure. I think what I’ll do is ask her in the beginning to just listen, and hold onto whatever she might want to say. I’ll say that there might be time at the end for her to respond. How’s that? 

C: Fine, good. Thank you, Pamela. 

B: Of course, sweetie. Anything for you, you know that. Ready? 

C: ...yes. 

B: Buck up, kiddo. That which does not kill us makes us stronger, right? 

C: I hope so. 

B: All right. Mrs. Novak, please come in. You can sit anywhere you like, make yourself at home. Can I get you anything to drink? 

N: No, thank you, I - I’m fine. Hello, Castiel. 

C: Hello, mother. 

N: You’re looking - quite well, actually. How are you feeling? 

C: Much stronger, I’m making good progress. 

N: Good, I’m so - I’m glad. Anna has not been exactly forthcoming with information. 

C: That was at my request, mother. I asked her to respect my privacy, and she’s done so. Don’t blame her. 

N: I wasn’t blaming her, I was simply - 

B: Okay, folks, pardon the interruption, I don’t want us to get off-track. This is usually where I talk about what’s going to happen during the session. Mrs. Novak, we’re here so that Cas can talk about some things that have come up in therapy that have to do with his childhood. I ask that you listen only in the beginning, please. I know you’ll probably have responses to what he has to say, and there may be time after he finishes for you to talk to him. But at least to start with, the floor belongs to Cas. Understood? 

N: Yes, yes, of course. I only - 

B: Please, Mrs. Novak. I know this is probably unusual for you, but conversations in therapy are structured in a different way that the usual chit-chat. I’m here to help Cas get through this experience, and this is part of that. Thanks for understanding, I appreciate it. 

N: Of course. 

B: Okay. Cas? 

C: ...all right. Pamela and I have talked - well, about many things, but some things have come up that have to do with my childhood. Things I remember from growing up, things about - about Jimmy. 

B: Sorry to interrupt. Mrs. Novak, if you need it there’s a box of tissue right there on the table. Help yourself. 

N: Th-thank you, I’m so sorry. Please go on, Castiel. 

C: Don’t be sorry. I cry about him a lot, I understand, believe me. I suppose that most of what I remember, what I struggle with, is how resentful I was, still am to some extent. I remember having to be quiet all the time, not being allowed to complain or even cry, about anything. I felt as though I couldn’t ask for help, no matter what. 

N: B-but… 

B: Mrs. Novak, please. I know it’s tough to hear these things, but it’s very important that Cas be able to get this all out. Okay? 

N: [unintelligible] 

B: Okay. Cas? 

C: Thank you. Most of all, I remember wanting your attention, yours and Dad’s, so much, I would have done anything to get you to see me. After awhile I realized that no matter what I did it wasn’t going to be enough. And then h-he died, and… I felt so guilty for all the negative things I felt toward him, and you. You were grieving, and Dad was even more silent than usual, and Anna had friends to turn to, and I felt so alone. 

And that went on for years, I don’t understand why we couldn’t turn to each other in our loss. The silence and isolation just got worse. I don’t know what I would have done without Anna, and Gabe too. Especially when I came out to you in high school, he was my lifeline. Looking back, I realize how angry I was then. I remember that conversation like it was yesterday. I was so - cold, sharp, I was almost daring you to say something derogatory. You didn’t disappoint in that regard - No, don’t say anything, you know you were wrong to say those things to me. How could you reject your child like that? I’ll admit to you that I was eager to tell you I was gay just because I knew you’d hate it. Not very respectful, but you made me pay for it, didn’t you? 

B: Tissue, Cas. Do you need a break? 

C: No! I’m fine, I want to get this over with. Mother, I’ve lived my whole life being angry with you, how badly you treated me, your choice to ignore me to focus on Jimmy. That anger has spilled over into all my relationships, until - until Dean. And my fear of being weak, of being a burden to people I love, all the lessons you taught me, cost me the dearest person - the best man I’ve ever known. I’m - thanks to Pamela, I’m working my way through all that, learning to heal that wound, but I’ll never get over that loss. I don’t know if I can ever forgive you. 

[muffled sounds] 

B: Cas, anything else you want to say? 

C: [unintelligible] 

B: Okay. Thanks, my friend, I know that was difficult. Great work. 

N: May I speak? 

B: What do you think, Cas? Do you want to hear from your mom? 

C: … 

B: It’s okay if you don’t. You don’t have to do this today. 

C: ...yes. I mean, yes, I want to hear what she has to say. 

B: All right. Mrs. Novak? 

N: Castiel, I am so very sorry. I wasn’t paying attention, I was so overwhelmed. I thought Jimmy needed all my energy, I was so focused on that and so frightened of losing him I lost my other children too. It didn’t occur to me that you would see my, my preoccupation with your brother as rejecting you, not approving of you somehow. You were such a bright, creative, gifted little boy, I was so proud of you, and I thought you would just know that without my saying anything. 

My parents paid very little attention to me when I was a child, so when I found myself with an infant that needed extra care I swore I would never neglect him for a moment. I’m heartbroken to realize that in my desire to reject my own childhood, I recreated it in you and your sister. I am so sorry. I’m so proud of you, son, all you’ve accomplished and the man you’ve become despite me. I’ve hurt you so deeply. I hope you can forgive me, but I understand if you can’t. Please believe me, I want nothing more than for you to be happy. Please don’t carry my burdens any more. 

C: … 

N: Well. I’m - I should probably go. The last thing I want is to make this more difficult for you. Thank you, Dr. Barnes, I appreciate this so much. I’ll just - 

C: Don’t go. 

N: What? 

C: Please don’t go. Thank you for saying all that, I don’t know what I expected, but… Thank you. 

N: Oh my dear, I would change everything if I could. I’m so sorry this happened to you. 

C: So am I, believe me. But I’m grateful that - I suppose I’m grateful that this gave us a chance to talk. It might take me awhile to process everything, I hope you’ll be patient with me. 

N: Patient? Don’t you dare apologize to - I’m sorry. I don’t care how long it takes, as long as we can keep talking. In fact, if you and Dr. Barnes are willing I would very much like to stay for a few days, perhaps talk more, here or just us or whatever you want. Would that be all right? 

C: Yes, that would be wonderful. Yes. 

N: Good, I’m very - Good, yes. 

B: Well, someone needs to pass me some kleenex now. Y’all are gonna work me out of a job, you keep this up. I’m really proud of both you. 

[unintelligible] 

B: That’s about our time today. Cas, I’ll let you decide how you want to handle our appointments while your mom’s here. Whatever you want is fine with me. 

C: Pamela, do you think it would be all right if Mom joined me for dinner? 

B: Yeah, it’s about that time, isn’t it? Yes, of course, I’ll let the dining hall manager know. See you tomorrow? 

N: Yes, if it’s all right with Castiel. 

C: Of course. See you then. Thanks, Pamela. 

B: Yeah, any time.


	36. Chapter 36

_“ ‘lo?”_

“Hey, Gabe, it’s Dean.” He could hear Gabe make an _ah shit_ noise, and then sigh deeply. 

_“Hey, Dean. I, ah, I guess I won’t ask how it’s going.”_

“It’s going like shit, Gabe, thanks. Man, it’s just - Gabe, I’m begging you. Please.” 

_“You know what my answer is, pal. It’s the same answer I gave you the last 28 times you asked. I can’t do it.”_

“But why??” Dean silently cursed the quiver in his voice, the desperation even he could hear. “I don’t understand why this is such a big deal! Why can’t you just tell me where he is? Look, you don’t even have to tell me that, just a phone number, some way of getting hold of him??” He made himself stop and gulped in a breath of air, clutching the phone so hard his knuckles turned white. 

It was quiet for several moments. Dean was about to hang up and dial again when Gabe cleared his throat. 

_“Dean…”_ He heaved a sigh. _“Shit. Okay, look. First of all, the answer’s still no, I can’t tell you where he is or how to get hold of him, and that’s the way it is unless and until Cas changes his mind. And second - Look, I said I wasn’t gonna do this, goddammit. I just can’t leave it like this. You free tomorrow afternoon?”_

Dean gulped. “I can be.” 

_“Good. Come by my place about two and we’ll talk. Okay?”_

“Yeah, that’s great, thank you, Gabe.” 

_“Don’t misunderstand, pretty boy. I’m probably not gonna tell you anything you want to hear. But I promise it’ll be the truth. Understand?”_

“Understand. I’ll be there.” Dean hung up and stood looking out the window toward the water, wondering how he’d ever manage to wait until tomorrow. 

 

Dean stood in the hallway outside Gabe’s apartment, rocking on his heels and looking down at his feet. He’d been more than a little surprised when Gabe offered to try to explain; to be honest, he’d given up on Gabe every speaking to him again. 

Now here he was, waiting patiently, idly wondering what Gabe had to tell him. A part of Dean’s mind took a moment to observe how blank he was, how little emotion was stirring around in there. He sighed, feeling suddenly tired, and glanced toward the door at the sound of footsteps. Gabe opened the door. 

“Well, you look like you just wandered in off the street.” 

“I did.” Dean frowned at him, puzzled. “You asked me to come over, right?” 

Gabe sighed. “Yeah, yeah, come in.” He stepped aside and gestured toward the living room, closing the door behind Dean. 

They settled on the couch, facing the window overlooking the water. A few minutes of silence passed, Gabe staring out the window and Dean picking at the seam of his jeans. He glanced over at Gabe. 

“So, what did you want to tell me?” 

Gabe cleared his throat. “You, um... You asked me awhile back about, y’know, Cas and all that.” 

“Yeah, and?” 

Gabe looked away, his face betraying his struggle. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty much, uh, sworn to secrecy, I guess. It’s his choice, Dean.” Gabe turned to look at Dean for the first time. “It’s up to him to handle this however he thinks works best, even if we hate it.” 

Dean looked away, pressing his lips together to keep them from trembling. He blinked rapidly, tried to clear his throat without giving himself away. Gabe watched him miserably. He finally turned all the way around, feet up on the couch, to face Dean. 

“It’s his life and he’s like a brother to me, I’m there for him no matter what. But I think you deserve a better answer than you’ve had.” 

Dean jerked his head around, staring wide-eyed at Gabe. His heart pounded; he gulped in air and tried to speak, but nothing came out. Gabe’s expression was sympathetic. 

“I’m sorry about all this, Dean, I really am. I know I pitched you a lot of shit there in the beginning. Well, if we’re honest we can say I’ve been pitching shit at you all along.” He smirked, and Dean made a choked sound that might have been a laugh. “What can I say, it’s how I show love, I have issues.” Dean shook his head and managed a real smile. 

“In all seriousness, what I know for sure is that you’re the best thing that ever happened to Cas. I was real happy for him when he defied the ‘rents and came out here for college, and got so caught up in all the music stuff he was doing, made friends, the whole nine. He was happy then, but I’ve never seen him the way he was with you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Gabe sighed. “The one thing Cas never got real comfy with was relationships. I mean, he came out in high school. That was a lot of fun at his house, I can tell you. Not that he did anything about it, he just wanted to be able to say he was gay to his mother’s face.” 

“Wow, that took some balls. So, what, he never had a boyfriend or anything?” 

“Oh a few, here and there, after he left home. It just never lasted, he’d get impatient or decide he needed something he wasn’t getting, and he’d split, set fire to it, flush everything.” Gabe stopped, stricken. 

“Like he did with us.” 

“Yeah, sorry. Just like that.” 

For several minutes neither of them said anything. Dean stared out the window, unseeing, his mind roiling. He was so far away he started when Gabe spoke again. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m listening.” 

“Okay. I guess I’d want you to know that Cas is struggling with this, with what’s happened to him. He’s got a long road ahead of him and you know what his biggest fear is?” 

“Not playing again. Gabe, tell me he’s going to be-” 

“The docs say yeah, eventually he’ll be able to play again. But he’s not what he was, he never will be. And what he’s most afraid of is - if he was with you, if you guys were together he’d be dependent, that his condition, whatever it is, would put a huge crimp in your life. He thinks too much of your life would go to looking after him, and he can’t stand that.”

“But why?” Dean twisted around to face Gabe squarely. “That doesn’t make sense, Gabe. If he’s - he’s recovering, he’s getting better, right? That means he’ll need less and less help as time goes on, and besides, that’s what we’ve always done, be there for each other. I’d do anything for him, and he’d do the same for me. Why the hell is this any different??”

For a long moment Gabe was very still, frowning at a point to Dean’s right, thinking furiously. Finally he shook himself. 

“All right. I said I couldn’t tell you everything, but I know when he made me promise, Cas was just anticipating you wanting to know where he is, how to contact him.” 

“I do want to know that!” 

Gabe held up a hand. “Not happening, sweet cheeks. But I think it’s important for you to understand what’s going on in that busted-up head of his. It’s - it’s only fair.” He nodded firmly, and Dean slumped back in his seat, suddenly scared all over again. Gabe took a deep breath and started talking. 

Some of it Dean already knew, from Cas: he and his twin, their older sister Anna, children of very religious people, raised on rigid beliefs and unexamined assumptions. Jimmy was older than Cas by a few minutes. They were absolutely identical, healthy and strong. And then one day, when they were less than a year old, Jimmy didn’t wake up. 

“He died? But Cas told me - there was a wheelchair, he was in a wheelchair -” 

“Yeah, he was. They revived him at the hospital, he survived but he’d been without oxygen for so long it - there was -” 

“Brain damage. Oh my god, Gabe.” 

Gabe’s mouth twisted bitterly. “Yeah, ironic, right? Or Big Daddy in the sky has a really shitty sense of humor.” He blew out a breath, rubbed his face, gazed out the window. “That’s given me some dark moments, I can tell you.” 

Dean shook his head. “What does this have to do with me and Cas?” 

“Oh yeah. Well, it was pretty rough for all of them. Anna was twelve or so when Jimmy died, she had her little pals and all that, at least a little bit of a regular childhood. Cas didn’t get any of that. He grew up knowing that Jimmy would always comes first, that his parents didn’t have time or energy for much besides looking after Jimmy. Cas and I got to be friends in the second grade, and I’ve got lots of memories of hearing his mom - well, she never raised her voice, but she was pretty harsh. She made it clear that they all had to, I dunno, make sacrifices or something. Cas and Anna had to pretty much look after themselves, not be a burden to their parents.” 

“Where was their dad in all this?” 

Gabe snorted. “Checked out, mostly. I mean, he was there but not there, if you know what I mean. He was a writer, worked at home. Yeah, that was another thing. They had to be extra quiet, not make noise or a fuss or anything because Chuck was always in his office working. 

“It was always kinda tough for us to hang out, we had to do a certain amount of sneaking around.” Gabe chuckled. “I’m sure it won’t surprise you to hear that I got him in a lot of trouble.” 

“Yeah, I’m shocked.” 

“Well, he wouldn’t have had any fun without me!” Gabe’s smile faded. “He was always just my weird friend who was kinda quiet and, y’know, careful, cautious. They did let him do sleepovers sometimes, and when Cas was at our house he was - different, I guess. Relaxed, at least a little.” 

Dean let out a long, shaky breath, turning to gaze out the window in thought. Gabe sat silently, watching him. 

“Why’d you come out here?” 

“Anna. She left the day after high school graduation, I think. She’d done her research ahead of time, she’d already been admitted to the U-Dub business school, and she called me from the train station, you believe that? She was on her way, she didn’t let anything stop her. We always got along, we got to be pretty good friends. And no, we never dated so you can get your mind out of the gutter.” Dean smiled lopsidedly. “That’s a funny story, now that I think of it. I did ask her out once, we went for burgers and a movie, and she’s really a sweet girl, always has been, funny and smart and turned out to be a good date. And I’m thinkin’ hey, I’m doing’ great here, I oughta at least get a kiss, no problemo.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Nice. Always the romantic.” 

“Yeah, that’s me. I haven’t evolved since high school.” Gabe grinned. “So anyway, we’re in the car after the movie, pulled up to the curb in front of her house, and I lean in, y’know. And she stops me, just like that. And she says all this crap about she’s always liked me, and she knows what good friends me and Cas are, but she can’t do this. ‘I can’t do this, Gabe.’ Like I was asking her to rob a bank or something.” Gabe shook his head, smirking as Dean chuckled. 

“She say why?” 

“Oh yeah. ‘It would be like kissing my little brother.’ Nice, eh? Hey, shut up, I was heartbroken.” 

Dean was laughing out loud, his eyes squeezed shut with mirth. “Oh man, that’s always great to hear from your date. Sorry, Gabe, I’m just imagining the look on your face.” 

“Heartbroken, like I said. I said to her, hey, maybe we should try just to make sure.” Dean snorted. “Worth a try, right? And it turns out she was right, we got about thirty seconds into this kiss and we’re both like, ew, yuck, gross. We both started laughing like crazy, hugged each other, she said good night and got out. I could still hear her giggling all the way up the walk. We’ve been tight ever since, stayed that way even after she left. 

“Anyway, a few years after she moved away I get a postcard. The photo was the exterior of Canlis, that fancy-ass restaurant on the lake, and on the back she wrote: _interested?_ They were looking for a manager, so I called them, came out for an interview, got it, slept on Anna’s couch for a couple months till I got settled, and here I am. By then Cas was here too, in school and, y’know, having his mind expanded by those crazy musicians he was rooming with.” Gabe’s smile was wistful. “We had a lot of fun in those days, it was like the Musketeers all together again.” 

Dean slumped back against the cushions, eyes closed. After a moment he opened them and stared up at the ceiling. When he finally spoke, his voice was hushed, wobbly, tentative. 

“What do I do, Gabe? I don’t know what to do. I get it about his privacy, I do. I just - This isn’t right, you know it’s not. I should be with him for this. He needs me.” He turned his head to glare at Gabe. “He needs me, Gabe. And I need him. I can’t believe - he just walked away from our life, he just threw it away, threw _us_ away.” 

“You sound pissed.” 

“I _am_ pissed.” Dean thumped a fist on the arm of the sofa. “I’m so mad at him, and I miss him so much I wanna start throwing things. I wanna fix this, Gabe, but how can I if he won’t even let me talk to him?” He was gasping for air, not quite crying; he pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes. 

Gabe watched him silently, his fingers fidgeting on the hem of his shirt. After a moment he scooted along the couch till he was close enough to reach out and rest his hand on Dean’s arm. 

“I don’t know, my friend. I don’t have any wisdom to drop on you. I can’t even imagine what this is like for you. If it helps, I’m pretty much on lockdown too.” Dean dropped his hands and peered at Gabe. “Yeah, he won’t talk to me. We had a chat on the phone awhile back, but at the end of it he asked me not to call, to get in touch with Anna for information or whatever.” 

“Wow, that’s… Wow, Gabe.” 

“Yeah, harsh. We’ve been friends forever, it’s not…” He broke off, clearing his throat and blinking furiously. “But I love the guy, even when he’s not making sense. I guess I’m saying this is the best we can do for right now.” 

Dean latched onto those last words like a life preserver. “Right now? You mean, maybe later…?” 

Gabe looked at him sadly. “I can’t answer that. I mean, I would if I could, but I got no idea what’s next. Going by his history…” He trailed off. 

Dean hunched forward, elbows on knees and his hands over his face. Gabe let his hand slide back to rest on Dean’s shoulder. After a few minutes Dean pushed himself back and managed a half-smile. 

“Okay. I guess that’s…” He was silent for a moment, struggling. “I don’t know, Gabe, I have to think about all this. I don’t what to do with - with any of it. With my life.” 

Gabe squeezed his shoulder. “You, um, still in the house?” 

Dean’s face crumpled a little. “Yeah, for now at least. It’s really hard to be there, but I can’t stand the idea of somebody else living in it, y’know, _our_ house. And I don’t want it to sit empty either. Another thing I have no idea what to do about.” He stood slowly, his eyes finding the window again. 

“This is really a nice view, Gabe. A nice place.” 

“Yeah, I like it a lot.” Gabe was frowning at him. Dean took a deep breath and turned toward him, trying to smile. 

“Thanks, Gabe. I know this is - thanks for talking to me.” 

“Don’t thank me. I feel like I made things worse.” Gabe smiles apologetically. 

“At least I know more than I did. I appreciate that. Hey, I gotta go, buddy. Take care, okay?” 

“Yeah, you too. Listen, Dean, don’t be a stranger. We should go for drinks and dinner or something, hang out a little. ‘Kay?” 

Dean smiled vaguely, nodding. “Yeah, sure, let’s do that. See ya, Gabe.” He glanced back and raised his hand as the door closed behind him. 

Gabe let out a long breath. “Yeah, see ya,” he muttered, his eyes sad.


	37. Chapter 37

The streets were wet from overnight rain; they gleamed in the rising sun, pink and gold, reflecting sharply in the puddles. The air was cool and damp, with the promise of early-spring warmth as the sun slowly cleared the mist away. 

Dean rounded the corner across from Singer Designs on foot, glancing quickly up and down the street before he crossed diagonally to the entryway. From the look of him, he had an important meeting coming up: dress slacks and sport coat, white shirt with a tie looped around the collar but not tightened up yet, new-looking leather briefcase and an honest-to-god leather portfolio tucked under his arm. His hair was cut shorter, combed neatly; his black shoes were polished, unscuffed. He looked like an artist’s rendition of Dean Winchester. 

It was his face, though, that looked the most changed. Pale, thin; eyes slightly bloodshot, with faint, bluish smudges under them; a kind of resigned stillness. Inside the building, he nodded when people greeted him, occasionally giving a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He got all the way up to his office before he said a word, and that was just to respond to his assistant’s reminder about appointments later in the day. There was no warmth, no spark, none of the breezy banter or focused intensity everyone was used to, and the atmosphere was as subdued as he was. Everyone watched him, eyes following him as he passed before they silently turned back to their work. He didn’t notice; he barely seemed to see the corridor in front of him, the walls around him. 

Dean’s office door was standing open and the lights were on; he frowned a little until he remembered Jo was going to meet him to look at a couple of new designs, and he was late. He grimaced as he entered the room. 

“Sorry, Jo, I forgot I was supposed to come in early. Sorry.” 

Jo turned from the design table. “No worries, gave me a chance to tweak a little.” She watched him, smiling tentatively. “You feeling okay?” 

Dean made a face. “Yes, I’m fine, just overslept. Let’s see your drawings.” 

He was still frowning as he leaned over the table. Jo sighed under her breath, and started talking, pointing and gesturing as she described her ideas. Dean asked a few questions, nodding thoughtfully, and finally smoothed his hand over the drawings. 

“This looks great, Jo. Why don’t you and your guys work up those little tweaks and we’ll present to the group Friday?” 

“Sure, great. Thanks.” Jo stood unmoving for a second, her brow pinched, and then took a deep breath. “Yeah, so we’ll get right on that today. Is there…” She trailed off. 

“What?” Dean glanced back at her as he turned back toward his desk. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing, I just - I was talking to Charlie the other day and she asked about you. No, no, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” she waved a hand at him as his expression darkened, “it’s not like that. She just misses you. We were talking about getting lunch today. You wanna come with? It’d be a nice break.” 

There was a long pause, Jo waiting hopefully, staring at Dean’s back. He stood motionless for a long moment, gazing unseeing at the wall behind his desk. Finally, he let out a long breath and half-turned his head toward her. She could already see him shaking his head. 

“Nah, not today, Jo, too much piled up. Thanks, though. Tell Charlie…” His eyes dropped to the Hufflepuff mug sitting on his desk, a gift from Charlie on his last birthday. For a second his throat closed, and he had to blink several times and swallow hard before he could continue. “Tell her I said hey, okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Jo rested her hand on his arm for a second. “Let me know if you change your mind, okay?” Dean gave a short nod, and Jo patted him and turned away. 

 

Dean spent the rest of his day in his office, door closed. He had one in-person appointment, which lasted only as long as it took him to figure out the client wanted some pretty big changes to his project and would have to meet with the designers (in other words, someone else). A few phone calls, some research, paperwork - all requiring just enough brain activity to keep him from thinking about anything else. Early in the afternoon Jo knocked and entered, bearing a container of his favorite clam chowder from the Pear. She set it down on top of the contract he was scowling over, scattering a handful of crackers over it and balancing a spoon on top. Dean looked up, startled, and she winked as she exited. 

The change of light through the windows alerted him that the day was almost over. He gulped in a deep breath, straightening up and blinking as though he’d been sleeping for a week. He stood, stretching his back, and crossed to the window looking west toward the market and the water beyond. A green-and-white ferry rolled toward the waterfront, slowing as it approached the dock. It was a big one; had to be coming in from Bainbridge. A few sailboats and a small tug crisscrossed the bay behind the bigger boat; a gaff-rigged cat boat, sails like bright wings spread over the small deck, rounded the end of Harbor Island and heeled into the turn, wake foaming. It was strangely peaceful, motion and energy everywhere but a kind of calm running through the scene. It eased the ache in Dean’s chest, at least for a moment. 

“Heading home any time soon?” Dean jerked in surprise, and turned to see Bobby leaning through the doorway. 

“W-what?” 

Bobby smiled at him, a little sadly. “Just checking in before I head for the barn. How’d your day go?” 

Dean sighed and turned back to the window, searching until he could see the cat boat’s wings, disappearing from view behind the Island. “Fine. Client meeting with the design team on that one thing, no big deal. Got some paperwork done.” 

“Did you get out at lunch?” 

“No, Jo brought me some chowder,” he gestured at the cup, still half-full. “And I brushed my teeth this morning, took my vitamins and I’m wearing clean underwear.” He glared at Bobby. “Any more nosy questions?” 

For a second Bobby looked like he might fire back, and then he blew out a harsh breath and managed a lopsided smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to push. Just...y’know.” 

Dean made a face. “Sorry, I’m just tired. Didn’t mean to grump all over you. Sorry, Bobby.” 

“It’s okay, son. You, uh, got supper plans?” 

“N- uh, yeah, I’m good. Thanks. Give Ellen a squeeze for me.” Dean moved behind his desk, stacking up papers and putting things away, refusing to look up. Bobby stood watching him, then pursed his lips and headed out the door. 

“Night, Dean. See ya later.” 

“Night.” Dean closed the file cabinet and stood with his hand on it, not looking around until he heard Bobby’s footsteps fade down the hallway toward the stairs.


	38. Chapter 38

Cas rose just before dawn, as he had almost every day for the past six months. He spent a few minutes in the bathroom, then padded barefoot out onto his patio for his daily exercises. When he finished he hunted around for his shoes, noticing that it was a little easier bending and stretching to put them on, and set off for a brisk walk in the early light. There was rarely anyone else out and about at that hour; he nearly always had the trails to himself, and was much more likely to see birds and small animals. Finches, busy at a feeder; small lizards scuttling across the path and under rocks; an occasional tanager ducking shyly into the shrubbery; a family of raccoons trundling off to their den for the day; and once, unexpectedly, a young javelina, as startled as he was at their meeting. He’d come to love watching the light come up slowly, the color of the rock walls and formations changing and intensifying as the sun rose. It was beautiful here, in a dry, severe way that was very different from home. 

Home. Cas’ mind worried at that thought like a sore tooth - trying to avoid it, but unable to keep from brushing up against it. Everything around him reminded him of the life he left behind. So much had changed since he’d been here - he remembered how fearful he was when he arrived, that he’d never recover enough to have anything like the life he wanted, the life he had. He sighed and looked out across the valley to the hills in the distance, the Teapot just becoming visible in the dimness. 

To his surprise, after a month or so of intense physical therapy on his arms and hands he had recovered so much strength and flexibility he’d started working with a local PT specialist who also played the upright bass. Now, after all this time, Cas had found that not only were his fine motor skills improving rapidly, but all the music he carried in his head for so long was rushing back. At his most recent lesson he found the old fiddle tune in his fingers again, and couldn’t help weeping with joy when he got all the way through it, slow and stumbling as it was. 

Cas left the main trail and started a gentle climb toward his favorite viewpoint. It was enough of an incline that he had to push himself to keep going, puffing and moving carefully, and it felt like a victory when he reached the top. From there he could see more of the valley, and down toward Oak Creek and the main part of the old town. The leaves on the oaks and cottonwoods along the creek fluttered gently in the morning breeze, the light just beginning to touch them. He sat on a flat rock next to the path, leaning his elbows on his knees, his mind wandering to his sessions with Pamela and his mother. 

That was possibly the most amazing part of this whole journey. To Cas’ surprise, not only was Naomi willing to listen and take in everything he said, she was more than willing to stay for more sessions so they could talk more. And to his profound gratitude, she made none of the excuses and counterarguments Cas expected she would. She listened, gravely and silently. When she finally had to leave, several days later, they were making plans for her to come to visit him again. Cas shook his head, smiling and wiping tears. 

Watching the landscape slowly wake up and come to life around him, he realized with a shock what was happening inside him: he was waking up. Every day that passed brought new strength, more flexibility, more return of his ability to play; new miracles. Blessings that he didn’t take for granted, gifts that brought him joy, and also a kind of terror. Pamela reminded him every time he saw her now: _you don’t actually live here, my friend. When will you take wing again?_

Cas got to his feet slowly and cautiously, using his cane to support him as he started back down the slope. He had just enough time for a shower and breakfast before meeting with his music therapist. 

He’d had to relearn everything - not so much the notes, not the music he’s familiar with, but the physical technique, sometimes finding ways around his old style to accommodate his weakness. And the process included the emotional experience of making music, the connection between his heart and the music that poured out of his hands and the instrument. He knew now that the break with Dean, done out of fear and pain and his own insecurity, plastered over with old anger used as a wedge - the act of destroying their relationship, cutting off that connection with his heart, had left a kind of wall between him and the music in his heart and soul. The day he broke down when he was able to remember and to play music straight from his heart was a turning point, the moment he felt himself on the other side of his grief. He found himself rediscovering the joy he took in making music, and remembering what it felt like to collaborate with other musicians. And that brought him around again to Dean - always, despite his efforts not to, back to Dean.

.

Session notes 

B: Dr. Pamela Barnes  
C: Cas Novak 

 

B: Hey handsome, how’s it going? You get out of the house this morning? 

C: Yes, mom. [laughter] I went for a walk early, watched the sun come up. It’s a beautiful day. 

B: From the viewpoint? Good job, you’ll be mountaineering next. And you did PT, right? You have that look. 

C: The glow of health, you mean? 

B: [laughter] No, the ‘I’m already planning my nap’ look. 

C: Yes, Brian put me through my paces this morning. I actually managed to keep up with him, for the most part. 

B: You did better than that. Yes, he told on you, I keep tabs, you know that. He said you were - well, what he said was that you’ve pretty much graduated. His exact words were, ‘I can’t do much more for him.’ He wants you to hook up with a PT person wherever you land and keep going for awhile, but he’s pretty confident you can take it from here. 

C: ...oh. Really, he said that? I’ve finished? 

B: You sound surprised, Cas. You must know you’re doing beautifully. 

C: … 

B: Hey, you okay? 

C: Y-yes, I just - I don’t really feel one hundred percent. I guess I thought it would feel...done. Complete. 

B: Ah Cas. We’ve talked about this, honey. You know it’s a process, and a lifelong one to a certain degree. You’ll always be working on this. And that’s okay, right? Staying strong, taking care of yourself, that’s something you’d be doing anyway. It’s just a little different than you thought it would be, that’s all. 

C: Well. Well, when you put it that way it makes sense. Thank you. 

B: There’s that smile. So you did the cello thing this morning, right? 

C: Oh yes. Always. The man is a wizard. I don’t know that I’d be where I am now with my playing if it weren’t for him. 

B: Yeah, I hear that a lot about him. He’s pretty great. How’d it go today?

C: I’m just realizing that he said something similar to what Brian told you. He said that he… 

B: Hey, you okay? Do I need to break out the tissue? 

C: Sorry, I don’t know where that came from. I’m not sad, exactly, I don’t know what this is. 

B: Okay, it’s okay. Can you tell me what he said to you? 

C: He… We played something we’ve been working on, an arrangement of an old folk song written for strings. It’s a lovely tune, a little melancholy, a farewell, and when we were finished, he looked at me with a sad expression on his face, and he said: you’re leaving the nest. 

B: Oh, gosh. That sounds amazing. 

C: It was, and the more I think about it the more amazed I feel. I think… 

B: What, Cas? 

C: I think he may be right, and Brian too. I’m - I’m finished here. It feels like I’m at the end of this chapter. Why are you smiling? 

B: Because I agree with you. Take a minute to look back over the last six months, Cas. Look back at _yourself_. You’re not the same man that practically crawled in here with nothing but his crutches holding him up and his tail between his legs. You’ve worked so hard, and you’ve transformed your life. Don’t you think? 

C: Y-yes, I suppose so. It doesn’t feel quite - real, to actually be at this point. 

B: What, you thought you’d just stay here forever and walk up to the viewpoint every morning and that would be your life? 

C: Well, when you say it like that… [laughter] 

B: I just want to point out one more thing. You said you’re at the end of the chapter. You know what that means, right? 

C: What? 

B: Time to turn the page, my dude. Time to move on to the rest of the book. 

 

The next few days passed in a rush of making endless lists, phone calls, packing. He had one last session with Pamela - mostly consisting of her reminding him to find a physical therapist once he got settled, remembering to take care of himself and respect his limits; there was even a daily checklist, which made him grimace. 

“What? Too smart to need a silly old checklist?” 

Cas tried not to smile but lost the battle quickly. “Actually, you’re right, it’s a good idea. I don’t remember things quite as readily as I used to.” He glanced away, and Pamela squeezed his arm. 

“Don’t fret, pet, that might improve as time goes on. Or not, and then you’ll have all these lists to help you.” She winked, and he couldn’t help chuckling. 

“I’m going to miss you, Pamela. I couldn’t have asked for a better doctor, I don’t know where I’d be now without you.” Cas’ eyes stung; he blinked rapidly trying to clear them. Pamela looked a little misty herself. 

“It’s been a privilege, no joke. You’re the bravest, toughest man I’ve ever worked with, I think. I know how hard this has been for you. You lost so much, and sometimes that’s too discouraging for people to fight their way back from. But you’ve been in the battle right from the start.” 

“It was worth it to me, to get what I wanted.” Cas managed a half smile; Pamela cocked her head and looked at him thoughtfully. 

“What do you want, Cas?” Cas shuffled his feet and looked down, frowning slightly, suddenly reluctant to talk. He glanced up to see Pamela still watching him. 

“Oookay, how about this: where are you headed when you leave? What’s your ticket say?” 

There was a long silence. When Cas finally looked up his face was bright with anticipation. 

“Seattle.”


	39. Chapter 39

Miraculously, the weather in Seattle cleared before Cas’ flight arrived, and he leaned close to the window, drinking in the green hills, the water sparkling with reflected light from the city. It felt like years since he last saw this place; another lifetime, in more ways than one. A long journey. 

By the time he extricated himself from his seat and made his way off the plane and down the jetway, the excitement of the day was catching up with him. He was leaning heavily on his cane when he caught sight of Anna. Delight and concern were warring across her face, and he gave her a lopsided smile and submitted to her hug. 

“Cas! Oh my god, it’s so good to see you!” Anna clutched him tightly, and Cas grunted. 

“Anna, please, I will need to breathe at some point in the near future. I’m glad to see you too.” 

“Oh god, I’m sorry! Did I hurt you??” Anna released him as suddenly as she’d grabbed him, and stepped back, surveying him up and down. “I’m so stupid, I’m sorry, are you okay? What?” 

Cas was laughing. “Yes, of course I’m okay, i’m not made of glass, you know.” He gave her a severe look, its effect somewhat spoiled by the twinkle in his eye. 

“I still shouldn’t have tackled you like that, sorry, brother. Um, do you need a wheelchair? You look tired, it’s no trouble if - ” 

“Anna, I’m perfectly fine. I _am_ tired, it’s been a long day, but I can walk as long as you’re not planning to set a speed record. Why don’t we go downstairs and wait for luggage? I promise I’ll sit down while we wait.” He gave Anna his best little-boy smile, and she relented. 

“All right, if you’re sure. The escalators are over this way.” Anna slipped her arm through his. 

Ten minutes later they were crossing the drive to the parking garage, Anna pulling the luggage cart behind them. She’d managed to find a parking spot near the elevators, but by the time they got to her car and unloaded everything into the trunk, Cas’ reserves of energy were gone. He sighed and leaned back into the passenger seat, his eyes slipping closed. He didn’t exactly fall asleep; he could hear Anna’s chatter in bits and pieces, something about staying with her as long as he wanted, someone at the symphony wanted to meet with him the next day, along with his old boss at the School of Music. Cas hummed and grunted and made general noises without actually responding; he was so relaxed he wasn’t aware of how much time had passed until they came to a stop in Anna’s driveway. He jerked awake and struggled to sit up. 

“Sleep well?” Anna was grinning at him. 

“Hardly. You were jabbering away like a magpie. How could anyone sleep through that?” 

To his surprise, Anna’s eyes glistened with tears, and she leaned across the seat to kiss his cheek and squeeze him around the neck. “I’m so happy you’re back, Cas. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed having you around.” 

“Me too.” Cas leaned his head against hers for a moment. “Let’s go inside or I really will fall asleep in your car.” 

“All right.” Anna popped the trunk door and slid out of the car. “You’re in the guest room, of course, it’s all ready for you. You’re to sleep in tomorrow morning, and I’ll fix whatever you want for breakfast, and then we’ll see about getting you back into your life again.” 

Cas’ smile faded as he followed her up the front walk. Anna was still talking, reminding him the dean was expecting him the next afternoon to talk about setting up a schedule for him. _His life._ Whatever that meant now. 

 

 

Dean wiped his feet on the welcome mat and pushed open Sam and Jess’ front door. 

“Hey, it’s me! Anybody home? Sure smells good in here!” He hung his coat on the rack, smiling at the sound of Mary vocalizing at the top of her lungs. He pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen; Jess, chopping vegetables, turned to smile at him. 

“Hey, Dean, come on in. Beer’s in the fridge.” She smiled up at him as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. 

“Thanks, I’ll grab one in a sec. I gotta deal with this munchkin first.” Dean made a face at Mary, snuggled in her baby seat on the counter. She screeched with laughter and reached out her hands toward him, her face bright with joy. 

“Hey, pipe down, shortie! I’m gonna have to tickle you!” Dean moved toward her with his hands up, fingers wriggling, and she burbled with giggles. Jess rolled her eyes. 

“Thanks, Uncle Dean. Just what I need, an overstimulated child just in time for dinner.” 

“Oh, you’re no fun.” Dean blew a raspberry on Mary’s tummy; she grabbed his hair with both tiny hands and grinned up at him. Dean hoisted her out of the seat and held her against his chest, dancing around the room and humming to her. 

“Sam on his way?” 

“Oh no, thanks for reminding me. He called a bit ago, he’s in the middle of interview with some kid clients, it’ll be awhile. We’ll eat without him.” 

“Ah, okay. I get to dine with the ladies, go me.” Dean made a face at Mary and she made a valiant attempt to mimic him. He laughed delightedly. 

“How’s it going?” Dean turned at Jess’ question; she was looking over at him with her serious face on, and he sighed inwardly. 

“Okay. Things are picking up at work, or maybe they’re just letting me do more now that I’m there for most of the day.” He smiled crookedly. “It’s keeping me occupied, that’s for sure. Bobby’s back down to one or two days a week, you probably know that. He seems to like being retired.” 

“Yeah, I think he does. Ellen was worried he wouldn’t stick to it, but he’s finally come around.” Jess’ eyes watched him for a moment. “How about, um, other stuff?” 

“What do you mean?” Dean nibbled gently on Mary’s fingers, and she squashed her little face up against his in her version of a kiss. He grinned and nibbled again, carefully avoiding looking at Jess. 

“I mean, how are you doing yourself? Not work stuff, you.” Dean glanced up at her sharp tone; she flushed but didn’t look away. “Are you - I don’t know, better?” 

Mary chose that moment to heave a sigh and snuggle her head into Dean’s neck; he leaned his cheek against her warm little head and took a deep breath. 

“I’m okay. I still feel like part of me is missing. Sometimes when I get into the office I just sit there for awhile trying to remember what I’m supposed to be doing.” Dean patted Mary’s back gently, rocking her. “It’s like, I dunno, being behind a glass wall or something, like I’m not quite here.” 

“You’re still staying at the house?” 

“Um, sort of part-time. It’s - I hate walking in there alone, I just can’t face it some days. Those times I sleep at the office, sometimes at Bobby’s. Weekends I usually stay at the house, chores, mail, y’know.” He started when he felt Jess’ hand on his arm. 

“I can’t even imagine. I’m sorry, Dean. Are you still seeing that counselor or whoever he is?” 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I can’t tell if it’s doing any good, but I keep going.” 

“Good. I mean, who knows, maybe you’ll have a brilliant insight one of these days and things will start looking up.” Jess smiled crookedly at him. 

“Yeah, cause brilliant insight is exactly my style.” Dean made a face, and Jess laughed softly. 

“I’m glad you’re still doing that. It can’t hurt, right?” Dean shrugged, and Mary stirred and mumbled before relaxing back into sleep. Jess smiled fondly. 

“She sure does love her Uncle Dean. D’you mind putting her down? I’ll have dinner ready in ten minutes or so.” 

“Sure, no problem. Be right back.” Jess nodded, her eyes following him out the door. 

 

Halfway through the day on Friday Dean’s phone buzzed. He answered absentmindedly, frowning at the papers on his desk. 

“Hey, it’s Dean.” 

_“Hey, it’s Dean, Charlie here.”_ There was a teasing note in her voice, and Dean leaned back in his chair, smiling broadly. 

“Hey you. Long time no hear from.” 

_“Not seeing how that’s my fault, buddy. Haven’t seen you down here in awhile.”_ Dean could hear traffic noises in the background. _“I miss you.”_

“I know, I miss you too. I’m sorry, Charlie, I just can’t - The Market, it’s just -” 

_“I get it, Dean, no worries. That’s kinda why I’m calling. Pretty slow down here today, I was thinking I’d button up early and go in search of sustenance. I'm talkin' Serious Pie? Can I tempt you?”_

“Wow, that sounds pretty awesome. I haven’t been up there since - in a long time.” Dean swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “I’d like that, Charlie. What time are you thinking?” 

_“Well, pretty soon. If it’s okay I was thinking of calling Dorothy, have her play hooky and come meet us, and then maybe movie night at our place after?”_

“I’m in. Okay if I come down and hang around til you’re ready to go?” 

Charlie was silent for a moment. _“Course. Come on down, I'll give D a call and we’ll get packed up.”_

 

 

“What’s this movie again?” Dean pulled plates out of the cupboard, calling back over his shoulder in the general direction of the living room. 

“It’s called Blink. It’s about twenty years old, I think. A creepy murder mystery, I love it. It’s about this blind girl who gets surgery to fix her eyes but it heals weird so she sees things but, like, delayed. Oh never mind, I can’t explain it. You’ll like it, I promise.” Charlie waved impatiently. “C’mon, make with the plates!” 

“Okay, okay. Here ya go.” Dean handed over the plates and dropped into the easy chair. 

“Dorothy, you ready?” Charlie twisted around toward the kitchen. 

“Yep, just getting the drinks!” Dorothy came in carrying three glasses full of ice and soda, napkins stuffed under her arm. “Fire it up, girl!” 

Charlie grinned and pressed play, snuggling down into the sofa cushions and patting the space next to her. Dorothy climbed over over the sofa back and slid down next to her, planting a sloppy kiss on her face. 

“Ugh, you guys are gross. Open up that pizza, wouldja?” Dean held out his plate, smirking as Dorothy plopped a couple of slices on it, passing him his soda and a couple of napkins. They were all munching and slurping, paying only passing attention to the movie at first. 

Charlie was leaning over the coffee table pulling another slice out of the box, when she glanced up at Dean and stopped cold. He was sitting with his pizza-laden hand halfway to his mouth, staring at the screen. 

“Dean?” 

Dean started, looking over at her as though he’d forgotten she was there. “Sorry, I need - I think I need to go. Thanks for the pizza.” He staggered to his feet, stumbling a little as he headed for the door. 

“Dean, wait, what’s the matter? Dean, you forgot your jacket! Dean!” The door clicked shut, and Charlie stared at Dorothy, open-mouthed. 

“What in the hell?” 

Dorothy gave her a sad smile and indicated the television. “Maybe it was a little too close to home.” 

Charlie frowned and turned to look at the scene playing on the screen. It showed a group of musicians at a club, crowded together on a small, dimly lit stage. Charlie watched intently - and then groaned when she saw it, slumping back on the couch. Most of the musicians were playing the usual rock-band instruments: a couple of guitars, a bass, keyboards - and a violinist, weaving a classical melody line through the rock melody. Charlie sighed. 

“Ugh, I screwed up, Miss D.” 

Dorothy patted Charlie’s knee. “It’s been a long time since you watched this, babe. No big deal.” 

Charlie looked ruefully at Dorothy, trying to smile. “It was to him.” She slid sideways and rested her head on Dorothy’s shoulder, grabbing up the remote to shut off the movie. 

 

When he left Charlie’s, all Dean could think about was driving, getting as far away as he could. He drove past the exit for West Seattle and took the next one, following the signs for Lincoln Park. The park itself was closed; he parked on the street near one of the entrances, and slipped passed the chain across the entry road. 

The path led around the edge of the woods, curving around the trees and toward the water. There was just enough light to see the trail; Dean could see the water ahead, reflected lights twinkling on the surface. The gentle slapping sound of waves on the dock, the occasional rustle of night creatures in the underbrush; the sound of his feet on the gravel; the pounding of his heart - the only sounds he could hear. He kept walking, following the trail along the water as far as it went, then turned and made his way back. He climbed up and crossed the dock, then dropped down in the other side into the sand, and kept walking. 

Finally, worn out, Dean slumped onto a driftwood log, damp and cold enough to shake him out of his trance. Panting, he hunched over, squeezing his eyes shut and seeing the movie scene replay in his mind, over and over, tears spilling out to splash on the rocky beach at his feet.

It took a long time to calm down, catch his breath enough to stumble back to the car. The blinking message light on his phone caught his eye: a text from Charlie. 

**the_queen** _hey, you ok?_

 **deanw** _im ok thx sorry about that_

**the_queen** _dont be silly we’ll do smth else next time_

 **deanw** _no worries_

 **the_queen** _love you bud_

Dean sighed, and reached for the key. Time to go home. Wherever that was. 

 

~~~

 

_“Hello, this is Dr. Barnes.”_

“Hello, Pamela, it’s Cas Novak. I hope it’s all right that I called?” 

_“Oh my gosh, my star pupil! Of course it’s all right, that’s why I gave you my number and told you to call anytime. Couldn’t stay away, eh?”_

Cas chuckled. “Apparently not.” 

_“I knew it. So what’s up?”_

A long silence. Cas cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“I need to talk something out, I think. I’m, ah… I’m more or less settled in, I’ve been doing a lot of practicing, getting ready to start rehearsals with the symphony, and they let me back in at the University.” 

_“What a surprise.”_

“Well, it was to me, I’ve been gone quite a while. Anyway, no classes yet but I’m starting with a few students soon.” 

_“That all sounds great, Cas. Gettin’ back into life again, good for you.”_ She fell silent, waiting. Cas heaved a sigh. 

“I hate when you do that, getting all quiet so I’ll talk.” 

She snorted. _“Whatever works, that’s my motto. So what isn’t working for you? Cas?”_

“...I haven’t called Dean yet.” 

_“Ah. The one item left on your list, eh? What do you think about that?”_

Another long pause. “I suppose it’s a combination of things. I’m afraid of what he might say. I know I hurt him badly by leaving the way I did. I feel like I betrayed - everything, really, all the trust and the partnership we made between us, and I just walked out. Well, not walked exactly, but you know what I mean.” 

_“Yeah, very funny. So you’re feeling awkward about trying to talk to him, about how he might respond? And what else?”_

“Oh, that old thing about being a burden, I think. Not wanting to impose on his good heart with my - my new circumstance.” 

_“Okay. Well, my friend, I think you have one more thing to unpack in your head. Both of those fears are coming from the same place, and this might be hard to hear: you still don’t trust Dean and his commitment to you, the love he has for you. You’re still afraid to count on that.”_

“...what?” 

_“From what you’ve told me about him, he’s strong, reliable, supportive, kind, everything you’d want in this situation. He’s the perfect partner, right? So why aren’t you letting him be that? Why aren’t you letting yourself trust that he’s the wonderful man you think he is? Why aren’t you trusting yourself?”_

Cas fell back in his chair, almost dropping the phone from his hand. He stared out the window long enough that he abruptly became aware of Pam’s voice, coming from the phone. 

_“Cas? Hey Cas, you there? Earth to Novak, come in?”_

“Yes, yes, sorry. Once again your brilliance astounds me. You’re right. You’re absolutely right. He deserves that trust from me. I just - I’m not sure what to say to him.” 

_“Okay. You’re right, it’s a good idea to figure that out before you talk to him. I sometimes recommend that people write a script or an outline or something that will help them stay on track. Maybe just the act of writing down what you want to say to him will make it stick in your mind. What do you think?”_

Cas hummed, thinking and scratching his head. “I think I’ll sit down and start writing about all this, get my thoughts clear and then contact him.” 

_“That sounds good. Just don’t pour your energy into getting ready and forget to actually talk to him. Right?”_

“Right. Thank you. Thank you, Pamela, for everything.” 

_“No sweat, tough guy. You got this. Let me know how it goes, and don’t forget you can call me any time. Later, baby!”_

“Good night. Thanks again.” Cas heard the click as the line went dead. He sat thinking for a moment, and then pulled a notebook and pen toward him and started scribbling, slowly at first, then faster and faster.


	40. Chapter 40

Cas was partway through the slow-but-sure process of getting ready for the day when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and smiled at the photo of his sister. 

“Good morning, Anna.” 

_“Good morning! My, you sound positively perky this morning!”_

“I slept well, and I’m feeling really good. There’s something about the air here.” 

_“Got tired of the desert, eh?”_

Cas chuckled. They’d had many conversations about his living in the wasteland, and he knew she considered any place without tall trees and bodies of water unfit for human habitation. “You should have come down to visit, Anna. The desert is very beautiful in its own way.” 

_“Hmph.” Cas could feel her disdain coming down the line. “Yes, I’ve seen many striking pictures of the surface of the moon.”_

Cas laughed out loud. “You’re relentless. So to what do I owe this charming call?” 

_“I wanted to remind you - well, I’m sure I don’t actually have to remind you, you’re always meticulous about your schedule - I just was thinking - What?”_

Cas was laughing again. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so tongue-tied. Are you trying to remind me about rehearsal today?” 

Anna sighed exasperatedly. _“Yes, of course I am. Sorry, I’m just - I really don’t know -”_ She made a frustrated noise and fell silent. 

Cas frowned slightly. “Anna, really, I’m fine. I’m not losing my mind, I’m not wandering the neighborhood trying to remember my address.” He couldn’t quite keep his annoyance out of his voice. 

_“I’m sorry, Cas.”_ Anna’s voice wobbled uncertainly, and Cas instantly felt ashamed of himself. _“I think I paid too much attention to what the doctors were telling us about aftereffects of, of this kind of injury. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t have all your marbles. I’m sorry.”_

It was Cas’ turn to sigh. “No need to apologize, sweetie. I suppose impatience is one of my least favorite souvenirs.” 

_“You mean you weren’t impatient before?”_

Cas made a face. “Fine, tease the disabled man. Did I mention I have a brain injury?” He chuckled at the sound of Anna’s laugh, then his smile faded. “That’s probably the toughest part of all this for me. I _am_ different, I know that. I’m irritable sometimes, I cry easily, I’m impatient - more impatient,” he smiled at her snort, “and some days I feel like if I didn’t have a detailed list to go by I’d never make it out the front door.” 

_“I can’t imagine what that’s like for you,”_ Anna said softly. _“I get so focused on trying to help you, do what’s best for you, I forget to follow your lead. I should trust you to know how to handle things, and to ask for help if you need it.”_

“Never my best thing.” Cas smiled into the phone. “I don’t think I tell you enough how much I appreciate you and your support, Anna.” Anna made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a choked-off sob, and Cas felt an overpowering wish to hug her. “I’m still a mess, still figuring things out. It helps me to know that you’re always there for me.” 

There was a little silence, the only sound their soft breathing. Cas looked out the kitchen window, watching the little birds at the bird feeder. He had a sudden memory of standing in the kitchen in the West Seattle house with Dean, telling him the Latin names of the birds at their feeder and laughing at Dean’s deliberately fractured attempts at repeating them. A wave of sorrow washed over him. His eyes stung; he had to swallow hard and clear his throat a couple of times. 

_“Cas?”_

“Yes, yes, I will be there, eleven o’clock, right?” 

_“That’s right. Are you okay? Do you need help getting there?”_

“No, I’m going to call for an Uber, I’ll be fine. Will I see you there?” 

_“Probably not, I’m caught up with meetings and phone calls getting ready for the concert. I’ll try to drop in if I can.”_

“All right, hope to see you. And Anna? Thank you. For everything.” 

_“Don’t thank me, you haven’t seen my bill yet.”_ Cas laughed at her and hung up, still chuckling as he headed for the music room to pack up. 

 

 

The string ensemble had played a big part in tempting Cas back to Seattle. A few months into his stay in Arizona, Anna took it upon herself to gather up the other musicians to talk about their next move. To her delight, they all wanted to start up again, and together they came up with a plan. With their enthusiastic help, Anna planned a reunion concert with the date still open - and called Cas in Arizona to present it to him fully formed, _whenever you’re ready_. He was annoyed with her, it was so blatantly manipulative - but he couldn’t keep the joy and excitement out of his voice when they talked about it. When he finally decided it was time to come home, calling her was his first task. 

Today, after a couple of weeks of work on his own and with the date of the concert bearing down, he was meeting with the ensemble to rehearse onstage for the first time. Riding to Benaroya in the back of the Uber, he had time to fidget, sweat, worry his way through a case of nerves; by the time the driver deposited him and his cello on the sidewalk in front of the hall his hands were shaking. 

But then he stepped through the front doors and stopped to look around. The first thing he saw was one of the massive Chihuly glass figures suspended from the atrium ceiling. It glowed in the reflected light from the outside, its curved spires glistening. Seeing the familiar sight, Cas took a deep breath, feeling some of the tension leaving his shoulders, and smiled up at it. Someone from the staff spotted him, and took his briefcase and instrument away from him before Cas realized what was happening. The man smiled graciously when Cas made an abortive attempt to recover his belongings, and led him off toward the backstage entrance.


	41. Chapter 41

Dean knew the minute he woke up that it was going to be a tough day - they were doing the installation at the symphony hall, the final step of a long and lucrative project, and something he was really proud of. Or he would be, if just driving by the hall didn’t plunge him into misery and grief. Ash offered to do it for him, and he was definitely tempted, but he’d been working toward this day for weeks, he didn’t want to miss it, or leave anything to chance, no matter how difficult it would be. 

The crew was on the job early; by seven-thirty everybody was there and starting work. They were actually moving quickly and smoothly, ahead of schedule, and Dean was getting into the rhythm of it when musicians started coming onstage. He glanced down toward the stage at the sound of chairs and music stands being moved, people’s voices and instruments being tuned, and then looked away quickly. His hands were shaking a little; he clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, and wiped his hands on the front of his shirt. 

When he looked up, Ash was watching him, frowning. “Hey, boss man, you okay?” 

Dean nodded automatically, not meeting Ash’s gaze. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just - let’s get this done, ‘kay?” 

“Sure.” Ash regarded him for a moment. “Listen, I know this is - weird, I guess. Just, y’know, let me know if you want to catch some air. We can work a few minutes without your presence.” He was grinning when Dean glanced up, and he smiled crookedly back. 

“Yeah, yeah, get back to work, slacker.” Ash saluted him smartly and turned back to the structure in front of him. 

Dean had just moved another piece into position, watching Ash beginning to bolt it together, when the music started. It was all strings; he recognized the cello and bass viol starting up, low and quiet. Gradually, the violins and violas joined in, still low volume but rising steadily. The music was affecting; calm, almost peaceful but with a sadness that pulled at him. It was distracting; he kept having to pull his attention back to the work in front of him, aware of Ash waiting patiently for him to catch up. 

When the cello took the melody, he stopped as though he’d been struck. His hands still held the pipe, the screwdriver clenched between his teeth, his eyes wide and staring at nothing. He heard the cello’s voice like an echo, a thousand memories of hearing Cas play and feeling the rise and fall of emotion and power. In his mind he saw Cas’ dark head bent forward over the strings, the play of muscles in his arm and shoulder as he drew the bow back and forth, a ceaseless flowing motion like the tide coming in, the rain falling in sheets, dappling the water. 

“Dean? You okay, boss?” 

He could barely hear the other instruments in the group; he was only conscious of the sweet, sorrowful voice of the cello. There could have been a hundred other musicians in the room, playing along; it wouldn’t matter. All he could think of was Cas; grief rose in his chest to meet the music, and a sob choked out of his throat. His hands fell to his sides, the screwdriver thumping to the carpet. 

“Dean! Hey, buddy, talk to me, what’s goin’ on?” Ash’s fierce whisper jerked his attention around. 

“God, I’m s-sorry, Ash, please take this, finish up, I can’t - I gotta -” 

Ash frowned and reached toward him. “Hey, no sweat, man, I got this. Dean, hey wait! Dean!” 

Dean stumbled toward the ramp leading out of the auditorium, one hand sliding along the wall as though he could barely stay on his feet. The exit door crashed shut behind him. In the balcony, Ash and the crew stared at each other, then Ash turned to look down at the stage below and drew in a sharp breath. Cas had turned in his seat and was looking up at the balcony. A look of recognition crossed his face, and Ash raised a hand in a half-wave. 

“Oh man. I needta-” Ash dug his phone out of his pocket, scrolled through his contacts list, and dialed. “Hey, Sam, it’s Ash. We gotta talk, my man. It’s about Cas.” 

 

 

Sam found his brother outside the concert hall, sitting on the ground under a tree, head resting in his hands, and Sam could hear him weeping from several feet away. He sighed and rubbed his face, wondering what to say. 

“Hey, Dean.” 

Dean started and looked wildly around at Sam, who winced at the sight of Dean’s face. Red-eyed, wet with tears, his hair standing up in spikes where he’d run his hands through it. He was gasping for breath, making a choked sound that broke Sam’s heart. He slid down to sit on the ground, as close to Dean as he could get, and put an arm around Dean’s shoulders. 

“Hey, hey. Sorry to drop in on you, but Ash called and said you were, uh, upset. Dean, talk to me. What’s going on?” 

Dean sighed shakily, wiping his face on his sleeve. He glanced quickly toward Sam and then away, refusing to make eye contact. Sam saw fresh tears making their way down Dean’s face. 

“C’mon, buddy, talk to me.” 

“I - it was -” Dean sighed and tried again. “We’re doing that, y’know, the installation in the concert hall, the new light and sound system Ash designed?” 

“You and Ash. Yeah, and?” 

“Yeah, that one. There was a string group rehearsing onstage, I wasn’t really paying attention until they started playing. The music…” Dean’s throat closed up; he wiped angrily at his face again and cleared his throat several times. Sam squeezed his shoulder gently and waited. 

“It was really beautiful, kinda sad, and the cello had a, um, solo, and it sounded so much - it reminded me so much of him, the way he played, and I just…” He broke off, one hand pressed over his eyes. After a moment he shook his head. 

“It felt like this huge wave, like I couldn’t stop remembering everything. Felt like this hole in my gut filling up with, with how much I miss him. Like I’ll never stop missing him, that hole is always gonna be there.” Dean sniffed loudly, wiping at his face. “God, poor Ash, I think he thought I was losing my mind. Maybe I was. I’ve never left in the middle of a job in my life.” Dean let out a long, ragged breath and leaned his head in his hands again. 

Sam rested his forehead on Dean’s shoulder for a moment, struggling silently. “What can I do?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.” Dean dissolved into tears for a moment, shaking his head restlessly. “Sometimes I think I need t-to just, just leave. Move away, start over somewhere else. Wherever I go here - the Market, all the places we went together, that stupid bakery, I can’t bring myself to go to the Triple Door any more. Even Charlie, she - And our house, Sam. All the work we did on it, we built it together, his garden…” He broke off again, face in hands, weeping silently. 

Sam shifted uncomfortably, caught between what he knew and Dean’s misery. “Look, Dean, do me a favor. Don’t make any big decisions yet, okay?” 

“Sammy, it’s been, what, six months? It is what it is. Maybe it’s time for me to, I dunno, let it go. Move on.” Dean’s voice broke on the words, and he scowled fiercely. 

Sam frowned too, giving Dean a slight shake. “Maybe you’re not quite ready to do that. Are you still seeing that, whatever he was, the grief counselor?” Dean nodded wordlessly, making a sour face, and Sam smiled crookedly. “I know, but keep going, y’know? Tell him about this, let him help you work through it. And seriously, don’t make any changes yet, okay? It’s not time to give up yet.” 

Dean peered at him thoughtfully. Finally he sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. “Okay, I won’t, I promise. I just… Can I stay with you guys tonight? I don’t…” 

“Of course. You can stay as long as you want, you know that. The guest room’s already made up.” Sam managed a crooked smile, and Dean tried to smile back. 

“Thanks, brother. You and Jess… I don’t know what I’d’a done without you these last few months. Thanks.” 

Sam stood and held out his hand for Dean to grasp, pulling him to his feet. “Don’t be stupid. C’mon, let’s go. Where are you parked?” 

“I can drive myself, I’m not completely helpless.” Dean glanced sharply at his brother, who smirked back at him. 

“I know that, just wanted to walk you to your car. I have to get back to the office for a little while anyway.” 

 

 

Dean parked behind Jess’ little hybrid and turned the key off. For a long moment he sat with his head tipped back against the headrest, eyes closed. He’d only been on the job for a few hours today, but he felt like he’d pulled several twelve-hour days in a row. Finally, he pulled himself out of the car, grunting with effort, and managed to swing the heavy door closed after a couple of tries. He opened the front door and went in. 

“Dean, is that you?” Jess called out from the kitchen. 

“Yep, it’s me.” Dean pushed the swinging doors open and walked into the kitchen. Mary, rocking gently in her little tabletop seat, gurgled and squeaked when she saw him, waving her chubby fists in the air. 

“Hey gorgeous, how the hell are ya?” Dean bent down to blow a kiss into the round little belly. She chortled and bonked his head with one fist. 

Jess shot him a pointed glare. “Kindly do not teach your niece to swear already, buster. At least let her learn regular English first.” 

“Don’t worry, sweet pea, we’ll get back to this later when Mom’s not watching.” Dean kissed the tip of Mary’s nose and straightened up. “What?” 

Jess was watching him carefully. “Just wondering how you’re doing. I know you had a tough d-”

Dean turned sharply toward the cupboard, reaching up to pull a heavy glass tumbler off the shelf. “Okay if I help myself?” He gestured toward the liquor bottles lined up on the counter. 

Jess was still for a moment, still watching him closely. She turned abruptly back to the stove. “Yeah, sure. Maybe thirty more minutes till dinner? Sam should be home soon.” 

“Sounds good, thanks.” Dean poured Scotch into his glass and gulped down half of it, then splashed a little more into the glass. He glanced sideways toward Jess as he wandered out into the living room. 

 

By the time Sam walked in a little later, Dean was halfway through his third glass, and was sprawled on the couch, humming tunelessly and gazing up at the ceiling. Jess grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him into the kitchen. 

“What’s going on?” Sam scooped Mary up and nuzzled her neck, smiling at the baby’s giggle. 

Jess sighed heavily. “He’s been drinking since he got here. I’m guessing he’ll stop soon, but only because we’re gonna run out of Scotch.” 

“Ugh.” Sam frowned, pressing a kiss to the top of Jess’ head. “I’m sorry, sweetie. He’s having a rough time, but that doesn’t make it okay.” He jiggled Mary and handed her a teething biscuit. “I can take him to Bobby’s, I guess. D’you want me to do that?” 

“No, no, it’s all right. I’m hoping to get some food in him, and then maybe you can hang out with him till he - passes out, at this rate? I don’t know, Sam. What do you think?” 

Sam nods, slipping Mary back into her seat and ignoring her indignant squawk. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

 

Dean managed to sit up and eat a little; when dinner was over Jess started clearing the table and making exaggerated gestures with her head toward Sam. He took the hint, trying not to smile. 

“Hey brother, let’s go sit in the living room, let Jess get this cleared up. C’mon.” He gave Dean’s shoulder a slap. 

“Yeah, okay. ‘S there any Scotch left?” 

“Nope, but I’ll bring us a couple beers. Go on, right behind you.” 

Finally Dean struggled to his feet and shuffled into the living room, flopping on the couch. Sam opened a couple of bottles, setting one on the coffee table and settling into an easy chair nearby. 

“How you feeling?” Sam watched Dean take a couple of gulps of his beer. 

“I’m just great, Sam. My life has officially fallen apart. I’m completely useless even to myself. I’m hoping to get a little drunker and then pass out, which I haven’t done in, like, forever.” Dean paused long enough to take another swallow. “How are things with you?” 

Sam sighed and took a long swallow of his own. “Pretty good. I just - I thought you might want to talk about what happened today, that’s all.” 

“Naaaaah.” Dean grunted and pushed himself into a sitting position, listing slightly. “No point in that. ‘S over ‘n done with.” He heaved a long sigh and gulped the last of his beer. 

“Well, like I said earlier, I think you shouldn’t make any big decisions right now. I know it’s tough.” 

“Big decisions, pffft. I don’ have ‘ny decisions to make. No use.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Dean’s face crumpled; Sam could see his lips trembling. “I lost everything, Sammy. I lost him. I don’ even know where he is. He doesn’t want me any more, and I don’ know what t’do.” He sniffled, wiping at his eyes. 

Sam sighed again, watching his brother and wondering how to help him. It was all he could do not to tell Dean everything he knew; the only thing that stopped him was not knowing what Cas was doing back in town, what he actually wanted. The idea of raising Dean’s hopes only to watch Cas dash them again was more than Sam could stand. He rubbed at his face, shaking his head - and was startled at a sudden, loud snore. 

Dean had tipped all the way over onto his side, his head thrown back awkwardly, making a noise like a buzzsaw. Jess poked her head around the corner. 

“Good grief.” 

“Yeah.” Sam grunted and got up. “Think I’ll walk him back to the guest room, put him to bed.” 

“That’s probably best. I’ll get her majesty into her jammies, and then I’m heading for bed myself. Meet you there?” 

Sam smiled softly at the little girl in Jess’ arms, and leaned down to give Jess a quick kiss. “Thanks, Jess. Sorry about this.” 

“Don’t be silly. He’s family, he needs us.” 

“Yep.” Sam pulled Dean’s arm around his neck and muscled his brother upright, hauling him off down the hall. 

 

“So how’s he doing?” 

“About like you’d think.” Sam sighed and leaned his forehead against Jess’ shoulder. She rolled up on her side and looked into his eyes, one eyebrow raised. 

“Okay. He was pretty weepy, and he’s not coping very well. I think he thought he was over their, um, breakup, he was stumbling along getting on with his life, and then this happened.” 

“What was it that shook him up like that? I mean, didn’t Ash say Dean didn’t see -” 

“Right, he didn’t see Cas. Dean said it was the music, hearing the cello and I guess it was very, uh, sad, melancholy, whatever. It just hit him hard, surprised him, I think. It reminded him of the whole thing, everything he’s lost.” 

“That must have been awful. “ 

Sam nodded. “Ash said Dean looked like he’d been punched in the gut. Ash was afraid Dean was going to faint or something. He ran out of there like somebody was after him.” 

Jess rolled her head to gaze up at the ceiling, humming thoughtfully. “So, what do you think we should do?” 

Sam raised his head to look over at her, looking puzzled. “Do? You think - you think I should chase Cas down and, and, what, make him explain himself?” 

Jess smiled indulgently. “I don’t know, but I think we should do something. Look, Sam, I know you were pretty mad at him when it happened.” Sam huffed, and she squeezed his arm. “I was too, I admit it. They had something really special, I know they loved each other so much. Dean still does, and my guess is Cas does too.” She fell silent, and after a moment Sam lay down next to her, taking her hand. 

“What should I do, Jess? I can’t stand to see Dean like this. He’s talking about leaving, walking away from the business and his life here. I don’t want him to go off by himself, I don’t want to lose him.” 

Jess squeezed his hand. “Sam, sweetheart, you know you have to let Dean make his own choices. We’ll be there for him, no matter what he needs, but in the end he has to figure this out himself. I will say this, I think he’s not in shape to make that kind of decision right now.” 

“That’s exactly what I told him.” 

Jess gazed silently at the ceiling for a moment, and then turned to look at Sam. “What do you think about talking to Cas? I don’t mean yelling at him or anything, I just mean - maybe find out why he’s back, what his plans are. And…” 

“And what?” 

“Hmmm… You know me, I’m all for letting people keep their boundaries and not interfering. But I have this feeling that it’s not over for Cas either. Maybe just seeing him, saying something to him, maybe you can…” She sighed again. “I don’t know, Sam. I can’t seem to think of a logical reason to do it, but I think it’s important.” 

Sam moved closer and kissed her; when he pulled back he was smiling. “You and your psychic powers. For what it’s worth, I think you’re right. I’ll call the music department at the U tomorrow, see if I can find him.” 

Jess smiled in relief. “Thank you, Sam. If nothing else, maybe it’ll give you an idea of how to help Dean get through this. He’s struggled so much these last several months, and now to have this dumped in his lap. It breaks my heart to see him this way.” 

“I know, me too. Hopefully I can catch up with Cas tomorrow.” Sam yawned hugely and Jess laughed. 

“Time for sleepies, big guy. See you in the morning.” 

“Mmmm, yup. G’night, blondie.” 

“Night.”


	42. Chapter 42

Dean was actually up when Sam came downstairs the next morning, moving around the kitchen mixing pancake batter and frying bacon. He turned to smile sheepishly. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey. How you doin?” 

Dean shrugged. “Okay. I spent some quality time in the john awhile ago, so I think I’m gonna survive.” 

“Oh good. I was a little worried last night.” Sam smiled crookedly. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m sorry, Sam, that was - I shouldn’t’ve been drinking. Sorry.” 

Sam hugged him one-armed. “Don’t apologize. That was a rough way to spend the afternoon. No harm done.” 

Dean grunted and started pouring batter onto the griddle. “Coffee’s done, I think. Help yourself, I’ll have some flapjacks on the plate in just a few.” 

“Sounds good.” Sam poured a mugful for each of them, and settled at the table, leafing through the paper. “So, got any plans for today?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, I think I should probably go in to work. The guys are probably ready to fire me or something.” 

“Actually, Bobby called yesterday to check up on you, and he wanted me to let you know the crew finished at Benaroya. Everything went great, it’s all set.” 

“Wow.” Dean set a platter of pancakes and bacon on the table and slid into his seat. “Wow, really? No problem?” 

“Your guys know what they’re doing, Dean. They’ve been working for you long enough they probably know the job better than you do.” He smirked. 

“Heh.” Dean was smiling as he loaded his plate, and Sam took a minute to enjoy the sight. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I should send Ash a fruit basket or something.” 

“I’m thinkin’ he’d prefer a gift card from Seattle Green.” 

“Ha! Good idea.” They chewed in companionable silence for a few minutes. 

“So, you got court today or something?” 

Sam swallowed and cleared his throat, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “No, surprisingly enough. I’m gonna do some work at home at least for part of the day. Quiet, I’ll get more done.” 

“Cool.” Dean got up, still chewing, and gathered up the dishes. “I’m gonna stick these in the dishwasher and then get changed and go in. I’ll, um, I should be back for dinner if that’s still okay.” 

“Just put those in the sink, I’ll do ‘em. And yeah, of course you can stay, idiot. Why wouldn’t it be?” 

Dean smiled shyly. “Hey, I might even cook.” 

Sam couldn’t keep a smile from spreading across his face. “Hey, that’s - that would be great. Jess’ll be thrilled.” 

Dean nodded and headed for the door, then stopped partway through to look back. 

“Hey Sam, um, y’know - thanks. For last night, for putting my sorry ass to bed. For being here for me. I - thanks.” His eyes were suspiciously bright, and Sam nodded. 

“Yeah, sure, any time.” 

 

 

It took a couple of circuits around Whitman Court, but Sam finally found a parking place near the School of Music, and climbed the steps to the front doors, where a young man at the reception desk directed him to the third floor. He moved through the halls reading name tags on doors until he found what he was looking for: Dr. Castiel Novak, Professor. For a long moment he stood in front of the door breathing, trying to settle down and reminding himself to be calm. He could feel his anger on Dean’s behalf, and his own sense of loss, simmering just beneath the surface. 

Finally he tapped lightly on the door. He heard a familiar voice call out, _come in!_ and pushed the door open. Cas was in the act of turning toward the door, the beginning of a smile freezing and shifting to something else, somewhere between surprise and ready-to-run. Sam stood just inside the door, trying to smile. Cas blinked a couple of times. 

“Sam. What a wonderful surprise.” 

“Cas.” Sam gave a short nod. “How are you?” 

“I’m well, thank you. Better every day. It’s good to see you, Sam.” 

“Uh… yeah, same.” An awkward pause. “Uh… so you’re teaching again?” 

“No, not yet, not in the classroom. I’m working up a schedule for individual students. Just taking it slow. You must have called the department office to find me?” 

“Yep, it was easy. Although I think it would have been great to hear from you before this. Y’know, like when you got back?” 

Cas sighed and looked away; Sam could see a faint pink on his cheeks. Cas moved slightly, shifting his feet, and it was then that Sam noticed the cane in Cas’ hand. Sam gulped, his face hot. 

“I’m sorry, Cas, I shouldn’t - maybe we could sit down?” 

Cas managed a small smile. “Yes, I should do that, thanks.” He maneuvered his chair away from the desk and sat carefully, gesturing at the extra chair. Sam dropped into it. 

“Cas, I’m sorry I was a little sharp, I shouldn’t -” 

“No, Sam.” Cas holds up one hand, and Sam fell silent. “You’re quite right to be angry. I know I hurt you, all of you, I should never have…” He trails off for a moment. “It’s a long and complicated story, I wasn’t thinking clearly. But I shouldn’t have run away like that, not from my - my family.” He gives Sam a half-smile. 

Sam stared for a long moment, nonplussed, his mouth half-open. Cas frowned at him. 

“Sam? Are you all right?” 

Sam gave his head a sharp shake. “Sorry. Yeah, fine, you just took all the wind out of my sails, that’s all. I came in here all ready to rip your head off.” 

“You did?” 

Sam snorted. “Don’t mind me, I’m just… regrouping, I guess.” 

“Sorry. Um, I’ve only been back a few weeks. If you don’t my asking, how did you know…?” 

“That you were back?” Cas nodded. “Well, apparently you had a rehearsal yesterday? Dean and his crew were installing some new system or other.” 

“Yes, Anna was telling me there was a new lighting and sound system, something like that? She didn’t mention, um….” 

“No, I imagine she wouldn’t have said anything about the Singer crew doing the job.” Cas winced, and Sam found himself feeling sympathy, somewhat against his will. He sighed. 

“Anyway, they were up near the top the balcony, I guess, and Dean heard you playing.” 

“Oh god.” Cas paled and gripped the edge of the desk. “I - I didn’t know, I didn’t…” 

“No, you didn’t know. How could you? You didn’t let any of us know you were back, that you were coming, so you wouldn’t have gotten that info.” Sam was frowning, watching Cas’ face. He thought of Dean, sitting in a pile in the grass crying miserably, and felt the anger rising again. 

“Is he okay?” Cas’ voice, husky and choked, broke into Sam’s trance. “Sam, where’s Dean?” 

Same took a deep, shaky breath. “He’s - I think he might be at Singer’s. He stayed with us last night, but at breakfast he said he was gonna try to go in and get some work done. He’s kind of a mess, Cas. He’s thinking about packing up and leaving, getting away from all his memories.” 

Cas’ eyes were full of tears. “Does he still have our, the house?” 

“Yeah, he’s been staying there, at least part of the time. Mostly he works crazy-long hours, half the time he winds up sleeping on the couch in his office. But he still has the house. I think he hasn’t been ready to even think about selling it or renting it out or whatever.” Cas made a small noise in his throat, and Sam didn’t dare look at him. He plowed on. 

“Awhile back he told me he was thinking it might be best to move out, but he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving your garden for somebody else to mess with. He told me he could still remember the proper names of most of the birds, stuff you told him, I guess. He didn’t want to forget them.” 

Cas covered his face with his hands and hunched slightly, leaning his elbows on the desk. For several moments he wept quietly, while Sam slid down into his chair, rubbing his forehead and wishing heartily he were somewhere else. At last Cas sighed and leaned back, wiping his face. 

“Oh Sam, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I’ve hurt everyone, all of you, and none more than Dean. I should have contacted him before this, I was just trying to - work up the courage, I suppose.” 

“Cas, seriously, you know he’d talk to you, no matter what. All you had to do was pick up the phone.” 

Cas nodded slowly. “You’re right, I’m so stupid. I need to see - do you think Dean would be willing to see me? Or maybe just talk on the phone, that would be all right. If I could just talk to him, apologize, I would do anything to make amends somehow. I don’t want to hurt him more, maybe I should just - I could move away again if that would help him. I don’t want to make things worse. Do you think -” 

“Hey, hey, whoa.” Sam found himself laughing a little. “Slow down, pal. I gotta say, I’m glad to hear you say that. I’ve been thinking all morning what I wanted to say to you, and I think I’ve figured it out. I need you to help me with something.” 

“What? Anything, Sam, anything at all.” 

Sam’s smile was conspiratorial. “Here’s what I want to do.”


	43. Chapter 43

Saturday morning, working again, the office quiet around him. Dean sat at his drafting table, music murmuring from the tape player on his bookcase. He was finding it easier this morning to work, his pencil moving slowly but steadily as he sketched. It still felt like he was swimming in the Pit of Despair, but his conversation with Sam, an appointment with the grief counselor and a couple of days not being in that silent house had brought a kind of relief, however temporary it might be. It felt a little like the sky over the Sound looked after a storm, a few rays of light breaking through heavy cloud cover. 

Dean had finally slipped into the zone, sketching more quickly, making notes in the margins as the design took shape on the paper, when his phone buzzed insistently. He jumped a foot, clutching his heart, and thumbed the talk button. 

“What?? Sam, you scared the crap outta me!” 

_“By what, calling you? You must be zoned out. You working?”_

“Yeah, and I’m actually on a roll here. Feels kinda good.” 

_“Ah, nice. Well then, I’m really sorry I bothered you. I’ll let you go, if you promise to call me when you get a break.”_

“Nah, that’s okay. What’s up?” 

Sam cleared his throat. _“Um, I was - that is, we were hoping you’d come by later when you’re done and have something to eat. Jess’s gonna do those ribs you like, and I picked up an apple pie. What d’you think?”_

Dean smiled. “Really? How come?” 

_“Well, Mary’s been asking for you, I don’t want to disappoint her.”_

Dean chuckled. “That actually sounds awesome. What time?” 

_“Any time, whenever you’re ready.”_ Sam sounded almost relieved, and Dean frowned into the phone. 

“You okay, Sam? You sound - weird. Distracted.” 

_“No, I’m fine, I just - What?”_ His voice muffled, as though he’d covered the phone with his hand. Dean could hear a voice in the background, more than one voice, actually. Jess for sure, another deeper one, a man maybe? Dean couldn’t hear it well enough to figure out what they were talking about. Then Sam was back. 

_“Sorry, had to, um, check with Jess about - something. So what time are you thinking you can make it?”_

Dean rolled his eyes at the impenetrable weirdness of younger brothers, and looked at his watch. “Mmmm… another hour or so. About four, is that okay?” 

_“Sure, four, that’s great, good, four o’clock.”_ Dean started to speak, but Sam rushed over him. _“Okay, see ya in a little while, thanks, Dean!”_ And click. 

Dean sat for a moment staring down at his phone, thinking that might have been the strangest conversation he’d ever had with Sam. He shook his head and picked up his pencil. 

 

By shortly after three-thirty Dean was sick of looking at his project and stiff from sitting in one place for hours. He locked up his office and the main office door, headed down the stairway and out to wander slowly down the street toward Baby’s parking spot. It was a decent day weather-wise, so he opted for the Magnolia Bluff route, high on the cliff above the sparkling blue Sound. Every now and then he glanced out toward the water - he could see several sailboats, a couple of big container ships fully loaded, their decks only a few feet above the waterline. A ferry chugged across the inlet from the peninsula, heading for the downtown dock. He could just see the mountains along the north edge of the peninsula, misty blue with distance. 

There was a time when this trip would have take fifteen minutes or less; Dean had a long habit of driving as fast as he could get away with. These last months, though, everything seemed to have slowed down for him. It wasn’t as though he’d made a decision to relax and enjoy the journey; more like he wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere in particular. One place felt pretty much like any other. It was rare that he even played one of his old tapes any more, or the newer ones he’d made right after he and Cas… He sighed and shook his head, focused on the sharp hairpin turn coming up. 

Sam and Jess’ place was along one of the narrow old streets near the edge of the bluff. The whole neighborhood was full of spacious older homes, big trees, a comfortable neighborhood feeling. Their house, an angular home in what was the modern style in the 70s, sat at the highest point of the lot, near the road; a huge cedar shaded the small garden, cobblestone walkway, a low adobe wall. Sam and Jess’ his-and-hers hybrids sat in front of the garage. Another car he didn’t recognize was parked along the edge of the street, a handicapped parking placard hanging from the rear view mirror. Dean eased in behind it; he was partly blocking the driveway, but he figured no big deal, Sam and Jess wouldn’t be leaving before he did. 

“Hey Sam, Jess, it’s me!” Dean opened the front door and moved into the living room. “Hey, anybody here?” 

“Yeah, back in the kitchen!” Jess’ voice called back. “Come on in! There’s a cold beer in it for you!” He could hear her moving around in the kitchen, other low voices. He headed for the swinging doors. 

“Nah, maybe later on the beer, thanks.” Dean pushed at the doors with one hand. “Hey, who else is here? I don’t recognize the car out front, did somebody get - ” 

And he came to a stop just inside, so close that the twin doors swung back and slapped him in the rear. He barely registered the sensation, even though it knocked him slightly off-balance and he took a half-step further into the room. There was a roaring in his ears, he could feel his heart pounding, there was so much pressure in his chest he couldn’t take a breath. In one tiny corner of his mind he registered that Sam and Jess weren’t in the kitchen, they must have slipped out, the only other person here, rising slowly to his feet and staring unblinkingly back at him was - 

Cas. It was Cas, thinner than Dean remembered, his hair shorter but still the defiant mop it always was. He was holding a cane in one hand, leaning on it slightly; when did he get a cane? His face was brown, like he’d been spending a lot of time outdoors. It made his eyes look so, so blue. Dean gulped, pressed one hand to his chest, _breathe dammit_ , and cleared his throat. A thousand words came rushing up, choking him; so much he wanted to say, but he couldn’t get a word out. Finally he managed a hoarse croak: 

“You were at Benaroya the other day, weren’t you?” 

“Yes. I was - I should have - Yes, I was there.” Cas’ voice was as gravelly as ever, but softer, worn down. His eyes never left Dean’s face. “I know you didn’t see me. How did you know it was me?” 

Dean’s breath punched out of him. “I recognized your playing, it had to be you. I just figured that out this minute.” Cas winced, and Dean shook his head. 

“You - uh, you have a cane.” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you - can you walk?” 

A tiny half-smile. “Yes, quite well. I just - I use the cane when I’m on rough ground, or when I get overtired. My leg is…” He trailed off and looked helplessly into Dean’s eyes. 

“Is it - does it hurt? Will it, I dunno, get better?” Every word he said sounded ridiculous, but now that he’d started Dean couldn’t seem to stop, or at least censor himself. He winced at the awkward question. 

But Cas smiled warmly, looking relieved. “Yes, it’s - I’m still doing physical therapy, and it’s getting better steadily. It won’t…” He stopped, his face pinched, and took a deep breath. “It won’t ever be as strong as it was, but it’s much better.” 

“Can you s-still run?” Dean’s voice wobbled and broke; his eyes filled, threatened to spill over. Cas looked like he might cry too. 

“Not really, not yet. I’ve been training on an elliptical machine, which I swore I’d never do.” Cas managed a smile and shrugged. “But here we are. It actually works much better, it’s almost zero impact. Much better for my leg. Dean, I - ” He stopped and frowned. 

Dean realized suddenly that he’d moved forward, toward Cas, that he was still moving, slowly and tentatively. Seeing the expression on Cas’ face, it occurred to Dean that maybe he should take it slower, give them both a little time to - But then Cas seemed to come to a decision, and took a step toward him. 

“Cas…” 

“Dean, I’m so sorry, I was so stupid, I…” 

“No, I’m sorry, I should have - I dunno, I shouldn’t have taken no for - ”

“I didn’t give you much choice, I feel so stupid, I handled it all wrong, I know I - Dean - ” 

“Cas, oh god…” 

They came together in the middle of the room, arms tight around each other, faces turned into each other. Dean choked out a sob, and then they were both weeping, not speaking, just holding on. Holding on, clutching with hands and arms, pressed together from shoulders to knees. Dean felt the wound-spring tension he’d lived with all these months releasing slowly, letting his shoulders drop. So long since he held Cas in his arms, much too long. Cas shifted in Dean’s arms, turning to rest his forehead against Dean’s temple. 

“I love you.” It was very faint, an exhausted whisper, but Dean heard him. He couldn’t speak for a moment, his heart rising in his chest, light as air. 

“I love you back. I always will.” They stood there swaying together, the world stopped around them. 

 

“What’s going on? Can you see anything?” Outside on the deck, half-hidden behind the corner of the house, Sam stretched up and tried to look over Jess’s head. She was peering carefully around the corner, looking toward the kitchen windows. 

“Yeah, they’re sitting at the table now, they’re talking. Actually they’re sort of just crying at each other.” 

“Oh shit. Are they mad, can you tell?” 

“No, no, I don’t think so. They pulled their chairs closer, and they’re sitting there with their knees together and they’re holding hands. They look okay, I think they probably just have a lot to talk about.” 

“Ya think??” Sam snorted, and Jess elbowed him, shushing him as he squeaked in protest. 

“Be quiet! I don’t want them to think we’re spying on them or anything.” 

“Because we totally are.” Sam gave her an affectionate squeeze. Jess smiled up at him. 

“All right, I can take a hint. Maybe we should go for a walk or something.” Jess grabbed another quick peek. 

“Hey, we could run down to the grocery store if you want. I’m pretty sure I left my keys in the car. I can sneak in the side door and grab the baby. What do you think?” 

Jess nodded, still focused on the scene in the kitchen. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I just wish I could hear them.” She strained forward, squinting, before Sam took her arm and pulled her back toward the back door. 

 

 

“I can’t tell you how much I wish I’d called you, or somehow let you know where I was, what was happening.” 

Dean sighed. “I knew, I mean generally. Gabe told me after a month or so. He gave me a few, y’know, progress reports, but he wouldn’t tell me exactly where you were, or how to get in touch with you. Anna either. She - I bugged her a lot at first, she got pretty mad at me. She said she’d promised you she wouldn’t tell.” 

Cas rubbed his eyes. “That’s my fault. I pretty much ordered her not to say anything to you. I was - I was trying to cut all ties, leave it all behind.” He smiled lopsidedly. “Come to think of it, she didn’t do a very good job of following instructions. She called our mother after awhile.” 

“Yeah? How’d that turn out?” 

“Actually, that may be the reason I’m back here. She, ah…” Cas cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “Mother actually came to see me at the rehab center. When Anna told her what had happened and where I was, she also filled Mom in on my life for the last several years.” Cas looked at Dean and smiled wryly. 

“Wow, that’s quite a conversation. How long were they on the phone?” Dean slanted a grin back at him. 

“I don’t know, but however long they talked and whatever they said, it was enough to inspire my mother to call my therapist. Long story short, it ended up that Mom came to see me. She stayed for several days, came to a few therapy sessions, and we spent some time together outside of therapy as well. We managed to clear up so many things, so much that I had…” He sat in silence, frowning down at his hands. 

“I don’t understand, Cas. What things? What did she say?” 

Cas leaned forward with elbows on knees, resting his forehead on his palms. He scrubbed his scalp with his fingertips, finally heaved a huge sigh and raised up to look at Dean. He started speaking in that same hushed voice, slowly, as though he was pulling the words out one by one. 

Little by little, he told Dean everything, his anger at his parents’ neglect, and his resentment toward Jimmy for the energy his parents gave the sickly child. Dean clasped his hands together tightly in his lap, suppressing his desire to reach out to Cas, and concentrated on listening to every word. 

“I spent my whole life thinking I wasn’t good enough for my parents. My childhood taught me that I was never going to be worthy of that kind of love and attention, and that the worst thing I could ever do was to be a burden to anyone else. No, don’t say it,” he held up a hand as Dean started to speak, “I know I was wrong about that. But at the time - back then it made sense to me. And I could take all the rage and guilt and grief I felt and channel it into blaming my parents for my pain, and rebel against them at every opportunity.” 

Dean reached out and gave Cas’ hand a squeeze. “So what changed your mind?” 

“Mom let me - for the first time in my life, Mom just listened to me. She let me talk, and she listened to every word. It couldn’t have been easy, I’ve been so angry for so long, I blamed her and to a lesser extent my father for everything I hated about my life, everything that didn’t work out, wasn’t what I wanted. And when I got hurt - I felt so crushed, I’d lost everything, my career, my home, my…” Cas broke off and looked over at Dean, his eyes full of tears. Dean winced in sympathy, but before he could say anything Cas was speaking again. 

“All of that came pouring out of me, and somehow my mother just sat there and listened to me, took it all in. And when I was done, she looked me in the eyes and told me she was sorry.” Cas wiped at his eyes. 

“Oh Cas…” 

“No.” Cas shook his head fiercely. “I don’t deserve sympathy, I did it to myself. I don’t deserve you.” He glared at Dean, who glared right back. 

“You shut up. Seriously, that’s just - that’s wrong, Cas. You deserve everything. Sometimes I think you deserve better than me. You…” He stopped. “I’m sorry, please go on. What did you do when she apologized?” 

Cas snorted. “I broke down like a little kid and cried in her arms. It was pretty embarrassing, but when I was done, I felt… I can’t explain it. I felt like I’d just - put everything down. Not that I was finished particularly, we still have a lot of rebuilding to do. But I don’t have to carry that weight any more.” He managed a shaky smile, and Dean smiled back at him. 

“After that, everything looked different to me. My physical therapy was going very well, I’d been able to start playing again, my strength was coming back in leaps and bounds. And I started to wonder what the hell I was thinking leaving my life like that, and then I was afraid that it was too late to pick it up again, to come - to come home.” 

There was a long pause. Dean cleared his throat. “So what changed your mind? About coming home, I mean?” 

Cas smiled. “Mom again. We were walking in the garden - I’m supposed to walk every day as far as I can - we were coming back from a long walk, talking about the future, I suppose. She wanted to know if I’d thought about what would happen next, where I’d go. I hadn’t really thought in terms of post-therapy, as it were; life after this long interlude. I said as much, and she said, well, what do you want? Just like that, like it was the simplest thing in the world. 

“And I realized: it is simple. I just stood there, rooted to the ground with my mouth hanging open, thinking, _I know what I want, and it isn’t here_. And I turned to her and said, I want to go home.” 

“Meaning...?” Dean was holding himself very still, his face stiff, forcing himself to look supportive and noncommittal, hearing his heart pounding in his ears again. 

Cas looked at him solemnly, searchingly. “Everything. Playing with the symphony, my work at the university, my students, playing at the Market. Our house. Our life. Everything.” 

Dean could feel his face, moving in an ever-widening smile, his eyes filling up again, his heart expanding. He was warm all over, relieved and happy, and so grateful. 

“Okay then. Let’s do that. Let’s go home, Cas.”


	44. Chapter 44

**jharvelle** _Mom, mom, he’s back! Cas is home!_  
**mamaellen** _What?? Who told you that?_  
**jharvelle** _D called out 4 work this morning, told Ava he had_  
_‘family stuff’ to do. She smelled a rat & called Sam._  
**mamaellen** _oh my god, I have to call bboby!_  
**jharvelle** _LOL Love when yr spelling goes crazy. PS: we say OMG._  
**mamaellen** _damn kids._

__

 

**the_queen** _SAM?? IS IT TRUE?? AND WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL ME?_  
**swinchester** _I have no idea what you’re talking about. ;)_  
**the_queen** _i will kick yr ass young man. don’t make me come over there._  
**swinchester** _LOL All right, all right. Cas is home, he’s doing great, he’s_  
_back at the house, Dean is giddy._  
**the_queen** _OMGOMGOMG!! i shd call dean_  
**swinchester** _Well, Charlie, maybe leave them be for awhile. The reunion_  
_is sort of still underway. I’m trying to give them a couple days. Maybe leave_  
_a message or something?_  
**the_queen** _yeah ok, i’ll do that. excuse me, i have to go cry now._

 

**anovak** _Hey you, I have some wonderful news!_  
**candyman** _you found a great girl for me?_  
**anovak** _Like you need me for that. Cas is home!_  
**candyman** _WHAT?? WHAT??!_  
**anovak** _:D He’s home, he looks wonderful, he’s doing so well. He’s_  
_even been rehearsing w/symphony, working into teaching a little._  
_Back in the groove!_  
**candyman** _holy shit, annie. does dean know??_  
**anovak** _Of course. They’re back in their house, having sort of an_  
_ongoing reunion. It’s a little embarrassing, but very sweet. So good to_  
_see them together, there’s a lot of smiling._  
**candyman** _hold up, how long? when did C get back??_  
**anovak** _Oh dear… it’s been a few weeks, almost a month I guess._  
_Before you get mad, Cas didn’t tell anybody for awhile, not even Dean_  
_at first. I think they both wanted to get used to the idea of getting back_  
_to their lives, y’know?_  
**candyman** _yeah i guess. still gonna give cassie a noogie when i see him._  
**anovak** _I look forward to seeing that! We should plan a party, maybe_  
_after everything settles down. You in?_  
**candyman** _for a party? how is this even a question?_  
**anovak** _:D Love you, G-man. Talk to you soon._

 

 

“Is that the last of the dishes?” Cas rinsed out the dishrag and draped it over the sink divider, looking over his shoulder at Dean. 

“Yep, that’s it. I feel like you did all the work, buddy.” Dean pouted as he put the leftovers in the fridge. 

“You cooked, it’s only fair.” Cas gave him a lopsided smile. “Strange as it may sound, I think I may have missed this the most.” 

“Missed what? Doing dishes?” 

“Yes, in a way. All of it, really. Cooking dinner together, cleaning up, just - everyday things. I didn’t realize until I’d been there awhile how much those things mean to me.” 

Dean turned from the refrigerator, smiling fondly. “Me too. I ate a lot of takeout, I just couldn’t stand…” His voice trailed off and he bit his lip. 

Cas moved around to stand in front of Dean, pulling him close. Dean sucked in a breath and leaned into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Cas. _Still not taking this for granted_ , he thought. They stood there for a minute, rocking gently, and then Dean pulled back far enough to look into Cas’ eyes. 

“Hey, can we sit for a minute? I have something I want to talk to you about.” 

“Of course. Everything all right?” Cas’ face was solemn. 

“Sure, of course, everything’s perfect. Just something I need to do.” 

“Shall we take some wine upstairs?” 

Dean smiled. “Yeah, great idea. I’ll grab the wine.” 

“Glasses coming up.” 

Dean climbed the stairs, Cas turning out the kitchen lights and following with two wine glasses. They settled into the chairs on the balcony outside their bedroom. The sky was still light enough to see clouds drifting northward, the dim outlines of the mountains in the distance. 

“I love the spring, it’s so full of life. It even smells different.” 

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose so. I saw you did some digging out back. It’s not time to plant yet, is it?” 

Cas looked at him speculatively. “No, still a little early. I have some seeds started in the greenhouse. Is that what you wanted to talk about?” 

“Uh, no, that’s not it.” Dean squirmed in his seat and took a deep breath. He turned to look at Cas, smiling fondly. 

“I don’t even know where to start.” 

Cas smiled back, his eyes warm. “Wherever you like. I have a feeling…. No, sorry, go ahead.” 

Dean gave him a quizzical look. “What?” 

“Maybe later. You have the floor.” 

“Okay.” Dean cleared his throat. “I guess I was afraid to - to hope that we’d be here again, y’know? I’m not blaming you, don’t worry, I just had a hard time believing I’d get another chance. I’m just so grateful, Cas. Thank you for fighting so hard to get back.” His eyes were shiny with tears, and he managed another shaky smile. 

Cas leaned over and took Dean’s hand in both of his. “I’m sorry I put you through that, Dean. I think I made it harder on both of us than it needed to be, and I’ll always feel badly about that. I hope I can spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” 

“Cas, don’t apologize, I totally get - wait, what? The rest of - ” 

A slow smile was moving across Cas’ face; he slipped a hand into his pants pocket, struggling a little to get it free, then cradling a small dark blue jewelry box in the palm of his hand. Dean gasped out a breath of air. 

“Cas…” 

“I’ve actually had this for quite awhile, Dean, since before... you know. I just didn’t find the right time, I supposed, and then... ” Cas swallowed hard, and looked down at the box in his hand. “I learned a lot about myself in therapy, and the most important thing I discovered is that I don’t ever want to be without you again. I don’t know what’s going to happen, I don’t know if I’ll continue to be affected by my injury, I don’t know what life will be like from now on. But I do know that I want to find out, with you. I’d really like to marry you, if you’ll have me.” He raised his eyes to meet Dean’s - and then frowned in confusion. 

Dean’s face was wet with tears, but he was smiling wryly - as he pulled his hand out of his pocket and held out an almost-identical blue box. Cas’ mouth dropped open, and Dean laughed shakily. 

“Two great minds, right? Talk about being on the same wavelength.” Dean wiped his face on his sleeve, and laughed again at the look on Cas’ face. “In case it wasn’t clear, yeah, Cas, I’ll marry you. Of course I will. You’re not going anywhere without me.” 

He crossed the distance between their chairs in one step, and slipped to his knees, leaning into Cas and planting a kiss on the side of Cas’ face. Cas made a sound in his throat that sounded a little like a sob, and Dean squeezed him tight. “That sound okay to you?” 

Cas pulled back a little, a watery smile on his face. “Yes, I think so. I love you so much, Dean.” 

Dean sniffled and moved back into a hug, leaning his head against Cas’. “Me you too, buddy. Me you too.”


	45. Now

Being backstage is a little intimidating - despite Anna’s assurances that Dean’s perfectly welcome and not in the way, there’s a lot going on back there in the minutes before the curtain rises. When the first musicians start assembling nearby he shifts even further into the little nook Anna deposited him in, trying to avoid blocking anybody. Several of them nod to him pleasantly; they all know him by now, they’ve seen him here often enough, trailing along behind Cas in the guise of picking him up at rehearsal but really just wanting to hang out and watch Cas play. 

That’s his mission tonight too: it’s Cas’ return concert, the first time he’s performed with the symphony since he came home, and Dean wouldn’t miss it for the world. His original plan was to take his usual balcony seat, but Anna called a few days ago to say she’d managed to wrangle permission to take him backstage if he wants. Dean has come to understand her reasons for keeping Cas’ secret, and she’s been such a help to them both since Cas’ return that he’s long since forgiven her. But sometimes he thinks she’s still trying to apologize to him, and although he tries to reassure her there’s no need, Cas says the best thing is probably to just let her do it. Standing here with this better-than-front-row view of the orchestra, Dean’s inclined to agree, especially since Cas will be practically in arm’s reach when he comes in. 

Which he’s doing now - Dean feels a gentle nudge under his elbow, and turns to see Cas standing next to him, grinning broadly, beaming up at him. Dean smiles back, unable to resist. 

“Hey.”

“Hello there. Fancy meeting you here.” 

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, I was in the neighborhood and heard there was gonna be some sick beats goin’ down.” 

Cas snorts. “The sickest. Speaking of which, I’d better get out there. Do you mind waiting for me here?” 

“Nah, not at all. I got the best seat in the house.” 

Cas leans over to kiss his cheek. “See you after. I love you.” 

“Love you too. Have fun.” 

Cas winks and heads for his seat, smiling and nodding to his colleagues and settling into his chair, setting up his music, looking around expectantly. He’s buzzing with energy, and Dean takes a moment to thank whatever gods may be that Cas is here, healthy, happy, about to play his heart out doing what he loves best; and that Dean gets to witness it. 

He’s so caught up in feeling the moment he’s startled when the conductor strides past him toward the rostrum, and the audience applauds. The music begins, and Dean marvels all over again at the mechanics of an orchestra. Dean’s played in a group, of course, but that was a half dozen people at most. Here, dozens of musicians and instruments, all playing their own distinct parts, somehow come together into an amazing, multi-layered whole. He remembers Cas speaking reverently of his experience with rock music, the complexity of structure and harmony, and Dean understands why Cas loves this so much. 

Near the end of the program, someone brings the conductor a microphone, and he addresses the audience. 

“Good evening, and thank you so much for coming tonight. This performance is very special for us. It features the return of one of our members who’s been absent for a long time, our first-chair cellist, Dr. Castiel Novak.” He gestures toward Cas, who gives a short nod as the audience applauds enthusiastically. “Several months ago, Dr. Novak suffered a terrible fall, a potentially career-ending injury. Now, after a long, difficult recovery, he’s back with us. Tonight, in celebration of his return, he and the string ensemble he helped found last year will perform the piece they played at their debut: Max Richter’s On the Nature of Daylight. Cas?” He turns and gestures again, and Cas, along with the members of his ensemble, makes his way through the applause to the half-circle of chairs set up on the stage apron. They settle in, adjusting their instruments and watching Cas carefully. For the briefest moment, Cas looks straight at Dean, a short, intense gaze; then he raises his bow, and they begin. 

Right away Dean recognizes the piece: it’s the one they were rehearsing the day of the installation here at Benaroya, when he heard the heartbreaking voice of the cello and felt his own heart shatter under the weight of grief. For a second he holds his breath and has to swallow hard past the lump in his throat, the pressure of tears. Then he realizes: the music still tugs at the heart, it’s still full of sorrow, but it’s not crushing any more. It’s not the endless darkness of loss; it’s more like saying good-by to the past, remembering the sadness and then letting it go. 

He feels tears on his face, but they’re only in the moment. As the final notes sound, fading into quiet, the last of his own pain fades with it. All that’s left is the peace and joy of this moment, seeing Cas’ face turned toward him, the light in his eyes. Dean smiles back at him, giving him a thumbs’ up and wiping his face. He sees Cas’ little laugh, and then the ensemble stands, bowing, acknowledging the audience’s cheers, a couple of the other musicians patting Cas’ shoulder, quick hugs, one of the women leaning over to kiss his cheek, Cas blushing and ducking his head. It’s all Dean can do not to rush out there and grab him up, but he’s content to stand back and watch Cas bask in his moment, making music, back home where he belongs. 

 

 

The forecast is calling for sunshine with scattered showers, which is why Dean and Gabe spent most of the morning setting up a handful of gazebo tents in the backyard. You can never plan an outdoor party in Seattle without taking possible rain into consideration, but there’s a lot to celebrate - Cas’ homecoming, his triumphant return to the symphony, Dean and Cas’ announcement. Not even a rainstorm can stop them. It’s late afternoon, and the sun has dropped toward the mountains enough that the light glows through the misty rain showers over the water, red and gold. 

Cas stands on the balcony outside their bedroom, watching the rain curtain move slowly across the water. Downstairs, he can hear the sound of people arriving, the front door opening and closing, voices and laughter back and forth: his family, coming to help them celebrate. He’s got the same smile on his face he’s had for days; he can’t seem to help it. There’s a quiet, warm feeling in his chest, different from the enormous satisfaction of the concert, and the incandescent joy of being home with Dean. It’s contentment; a serene sort of gladness. After a long, painful journey, he’s right where he should be, at last. 

He’s pulled out of his contemplation by Dean’s voice, hollering up the stairs. 

“Hey Cas! Buddy, c’mon, everybody’s here, we can’t start the party without you! Hey!” 

“Coming! I’ll be right there!” 

Cas leans his hands on the railing for a moment, closes his eyes, letting the peace settle into his bones, and turns toward the door and the stairs beyond. His cane rests against the wall in the corner of their room, and he leaves it there. He doesn’t need it, not today. Cas heads down the stairs to his waiting family.

-fin-


End file.
